


Stay The Same

by Angela007, to-pick-ourselves-up (Angela007)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Timeline, Character Death, F/M, Incest, Murder, Other tags to be added, Soulmate AU, TW: Blood, TW: Kidnapping, TW: Suicide, The OC's are not mine, a lot of revenge is going on, across the ages AU, adding tags as I go., deities are assholes, naming your children after dead relatives, other time lines, some fluff if you squint at it, there is suffering, tw: cheating, tw: child death, tw: child endangerment, tw: family murder, tw: inducement to suicide, tw: miscarriage, tw: murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26333686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angela007/pseuds/Angela007, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angela007/pseuds/to-pick-ourselves-up
Summary: Celia was always sure that she loved Jaime, that much was true.She loved him through the good times, she loved him through the bad.She loved him despite his betrayals.She loved him despite his lies.She just never signed up to love him across time.Every time she changed, she realised just how much the both of them never did.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Celia Tully, Jaime Lannister/Original Femal Character, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 28
Kudos: 52





	1. Things change...Tully

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FromTheBoundlessSea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromTheBoundlessSea/gifts).



> This story wouldn't let me rest.  
> I will add more tags as I see fit, but other than the normal show-canon violence, this is goint to be pretty safe, just angsty.  
> I hope you enyoi it Boundless.

_“The more things change, the more they stay the same.” ―Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr_

Celia felt her heart constrict at the sight before her.

Even a whole moon later, she could see the open wounds of the fires that had caught all over King’s Landing, the ruins, the debris and the cloyingly sweet smell of death by fire. She doubted any nostril in the city or its surroundings could ever forget the smell.

Sansa seemed determined; her lips formed a thin line as her eyes surveyed the same scene Celia was seeing.

“What will you do?” she asked her niece, wondering what was going through her almost impenetrable mind.

“I came to save Jon, he is still the King in the North.” Sansa said, her chin jutted out a little in stubbornness.

“The subjects of the Targaryen girl will not like it.” Celia reminded her.

“They are foreigners that invaded our lands and burned it to the ground, they have no high ground to stand on.” Her niece argued, steel already showing behind her soft words.

Celia smiled.

“Your cousin might stand a chance yet.”

Sansa’s Tully-blue eyes turned to her in a sideway glance. “Have you given thought to what _you_ will do?”

That was probably the question she dreaded more, for Celia didn’t know what she would do, not in truth. Tyrion had committed treason, he had conspired with Jon to kill Daenerys Targaryen, had he not? He also aided Jaime to enter King’s Landing while in siege, and as far as Celia knew, had aid Cersei and Jaime devise a plan to escape Westeros altogether. He was being held by the Unsullied and the Dothraki, there were rumours of execution, but these days, everything was rumours and smoke curtains.

“Arthur is the heir to Casterly Rock, he will stay such until Tyrion has any offspring, which I doubt he will.” Celia said. “I have to think in function of that.”

Sansa nodded.

“You know you can stay in the North, right?” her niece asked, this time she looked quite vulnerable.

“She knows, Sansa.” They turned to look at Arya. Celia’s younger niece smiled knowingly at them, helping dissipate the slight fear of being overheard.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? So many family words weighting over us, and we have actually just kept to our family.” Celia commented. Sansa and Arya smiled at each other.

“We’re pack.” Sansa stated with finality.

“A molten pack with lions and trout and even a dragon.” Arya added cavalier smile. “They are holding the meeting tomorrow at dawn,” the youngest Stark sister informed them. “I heard some whispers, people were hoping you wouldn’t arrive on time, Sansa.”

Sansa sneered slightly and narrowed her eyes.

“They are delusional.”

“They wouldn’t have held the meeting,” The three of them turned to Bran, who was looking on impassively at the scene that caused Celia and Sansa to have such strong reactions. “Robin would have stalled, he means to negotiate with you, Sansa.”

Her grimace of distaste made Celia smile.

“If he can offer something better than being the lady of Winterfell, he can do so, but is not something I’m willing to bring to the negotiations.” She declared sternly. “I dare say, that, if we can save Jon from these people, I might never even need marry anyone again.”

Arya made a non-committal noise but nodded.

Bran simply smiled his placid little smile that never failed to disturb Celia’s innermost peace. “May I have a moment with Aunt Celia?”

Again, the three of them exchanged looks, but Sansa and Arya soon conceded to Bran’s request, he asked for so little these days, it was practically nothing, giving their brother a few minutes with their Aunt.

“Will you ask what you want to ask, Celia Lannister?” Bran’s voice was even and there was not one ounce of judgement in it, but she still felt chilled to the bone hearing him.

“What did he do?” she asked quietly.

“He fought Euron Greyjoy to death, he won but his injuries would have killed him anyway. The Red Keep was just faster.” Her nephew informed her. Celia pursed her lips and her eyes inevitably turned to the fortress that the Red Keep was supposed to be. She felt the cold touch of Bran’s fingertips on her skin and when she blinked, they were both in a cold, dark place. Celia made a full turn on her heels, recognizing the tunnels under the Keep, the one’s she’d used to escape the city herself after Cersei blew up the Sept of Baelor. The place was falling apart, but Bran seemed completely calm.

“Nothing can hurt you here, Aunt Celia.” Her nephew said, not looking at her, but past.

“It’s falling apart over us, Bran.” She whispered, somewhat feeling the heaviness of the moment.

“It’s not, we’re still at the outskirts of King’s Landing, this is what you truly wanted to know.” He nodded and Celia followed his eyes.

Sure enough, she saw Jaime and Cersei, joined by their hands.

“This way.” Jaime commanded with a raspy, breathy voice that Celia knew. He only spoke that way when he was sick or injured. Cersei followed him. She was still as beautiful as Jaime, even with her shorter hair, and Celia hated her with all of her soul when she saw the telling volume of her waist. They both came up to a blocked path.

“Bran…”

Jaime was watching around, desperately as more debris fell from over their heads. He was looking for an escape route.

“I want our baby to live.” Cersei sobbed softly. She kept repeating the words, looking for an escape herself. Jaime’s pained expression made Celia’s chest hurt. He approached Cersei with a new limp, but Celia could see his clothes, drenched with blood.

“I don’t want to die, please don’t let me die, Jaime. Please, don’t let me die!” she was hysteric now, as Jaime hugged her.

“It’s all right, it’s all right.” He tried to lie, but the falling red stones contradicted him immediately.

“I don’t want to die!” Cersei cried, her cheeks were already showing the tear tracks, the salty drops turning crimson as they caressed her skin.

“Look at me.” Jaime ordered.

“Not like this, not like this.”

“Bran, please.” Celia wanted to look away, but she felt like she couldn’t. it wasn’t as if she could glean some hidden message from this. They were both dead now.

“Look me in the eye.” Jaime hissed, cupping Cersei’s face with a gentleness Celia envied. “Don’t look away, don’t look. Look at me!” Jaime shouted his words then, and Cersei, for once, heeded him. “Just. Look. At. Me.”

Cersei did.

“Nothing else matters.” He whispered. “Nothing else matters, only us.”

Their last hug was something that Celia’s mind would see clear, the look in their eyes, resignation and devotion warring with fear, she felt it as it seared its way to her memories.

The next time she blinked, they were back, and the air ran with that same smell of charred wood, stone and flesh.

Bran was looking at the city.

They said nothing as the sky turned from blue to orange, to different shades of vermillion and then inky blue. When the stars came out, Celia finally decided to take Bran inside.

The war might be over, but winter was not.

••• ••• ••• •••

Tyrion was waiting for her in what were supposed to be the new Hand quarters until the Tower of the Hand could be repaired.

She scoffed.

All of it would take years. Repairing the Keep, rebuilding King’s Landing, taxing the right people, allocating the lands that were without liege lords and ladies… It would be endless, it would take Tyrion the rest of his life, probably that of his successor too.

“Lady Celia, welcome.” Her good brother said, standing up and ordering an apparently shell-shocked servant to pull her chair for her. She nodded her thanks and waited for Tyrion to sit down again.

“You wanted to talk to me, Lord Hand, and here I am.” She didn’t want to dally, Sansa would stay only long enough to say her farewells to Jon and then, back to the North.

“Is it true that you’re Lady Sansa’s pick of advisor?” Tyrion asked, not really mincing his words either. They were too tired to play, there was not much to be said between them as a family.

“I am, as far as I know, her acting advisor. She may pick a Hand once we’re in the North.” Celia said truthfully. The Lord Hand of the newly minted Six Kingdoms of Westeros seemed torn.

“What about the West?” Hadn’t Sansa asked something similar of Daenerys Targaryen?

“It belongs to Arthur, and you better believe it will be his.” Celia said coldly. “Jaime was thrown out of the King’s guard and his title was restored by Tommen, whether he was a bastard or not, and Arthur is Jaime’s only surviving child.”

“He should be raised in the West.” Tyrion said.

Celia looked away into the bay.

“Probably, but I refuse to part from him. He will foster in the North until the time comes for him to take over Casterly Rock.” Tyrion sighed and served himself water, that made Celia pause.

“I am sorry, Tyrion, but what happened to them is not my fault. I tried to stop Jaime, I did.”

Her good brother nodded.

“He just loved her more, didn’t he?”

Celia bit her tongue to keep the words in.

If Jaime had love her or their little boy, he wouldn’t have left at all. She closed her eyes and that last haunting image of them in their dying embrace played behind her eyelids.

“I believe so, yes.”

••• ••• ••• •••

Celia smiled as Sansa sat in what had been Ned’s study, behind the old desk.

In the sixteen years since her coronation, Sansa had never failed her people, nor would she do so now.

“It will be fine, and Arthur will protect her.” Celia assured her royal niece. Sansa’s eyes were full of tears anyway.

“I know, he and Alys are perfect together.” Sansa sighed. “I just don’t think I’m ready to let her go, nor is Jon.”

A chuckle escaped from between Celia’s lips.

“My son is a man grown and I don’t think I’m ready to let him go either, but they will protect each other, they have good head over their shoulders, your Grace.”

After overseeing the marriage of Princess Naerys Stark to Daemon Martell, Celia was sure things couldn’t have been better, a strong relation had been forged with the southernmost kingdoms of the Six Kingdoms, bringing a peace that their liege families had been waiting for since Elia Martell had been wronged by Lyanna Stark.

The marriage between Arthur and Alysanne, however, was not expected. It had blindsided both Sansa and Celia. Arthur was four years older than the twins, and the constant fights between Alysanne and Arthur had made them feel safe in their assumptions.

Then one day, Arthur had asked for public audience with Queen Sansa and out of the blue, he’d asked for Alys’ hand.

His blond hair and glistening blue eyes had reminded Celia of Jaime when he had been young, a newly minted knight of the Kingsguard.

“At least I know he is nothing like his father.” Sansa said plainly. Celia smiled. After so many years, she hardly thought it would offend her. Arthur would never dishonour Alys.

“He is not.”

Sansa smiled and served them both a generous cup of dornish red.

“For Arthur and Alys Lannister.” Her niece proposed.

Celia nodded. “Arthur and Alys.”

••• ••• ••• •••

Tybalt Lannister smiled at the little boy in his cot.

“It’s a shame that kings and queens are no longer born.” His wife complained.

He simply shook his head.

“It will eventually change, but I’d feel bad undoing Lannister legacy, and you now that Dhalia.” He remarked, passing a hand through his blond locks.

“Is something more Lannister than naming our child Jaime, your Grace?” the former Tyrell lady asked.

Tybalt watched his son pensively for a few more moments.

“Probably forging him a gold bassinet or giving him something with lions, other than his clothes, I’m not sure my lord father would approve.”

Dhalia shook her head.

“Lord Arthur would have your golden hide, my love.”

••• ••• ••• •••••• ••• ••• ••• ••• 


	2. Arryn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celia had hugged him hard and kissed his cheeks with a smile, she was wearing her red and yellow crown.
> 
> “Thank you, father.” She’d whispered. “I love you.”
> 
> Somehow, Yohn couldn’t push away the niggling feeling that it would be the last time he saw his daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one hurt a whole lot, and I never expected that, I legit cried. 
> 
> I'm not making this either long, or amazingly detailed, I'm here for the angst. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**P** eople thought that Jaime Lannister had a charmed life, after all, he was the Lord of Casterly Rock, the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, Warden of the West and the Shield of Lannisport; all insignificant titles in the great scheme of things, but people talked all the same, none of them able to understand his bitterness and the harshness of his character.

At this point of his life, Jaime considered himself an old man already, so he concerned himself little with the opinions of lowly peasants and people who mattered little to him. But some other mattered, like his eldest son and heir, the next lord of the Rock.

That’s how he found himself with Tyrion watching him from across his antique desk, a desk that had belonged to all his forefathers, and one day would belong to the tall, young man that had asked for audience.

Jaime gestured for his son to take a seat, which he did, all while playing with his fingertips, as if looking for some valour to speak.

“I won’t bite, I’m all roar now, son.” Jaime encouraged, or tried, it always fell flat.

“Why don’t you love us, father?” Tyrion asked in a little voice, more a child than a grown man now. Jaime felt a powerful wave of shame wash over him as Tyrion’s hazel eyes tried to read him with something akin to fear.

Everything could be said of him, but Jaime would never say he didn’t love his children. Tyrion, Joy and Kevan were his one motivation in a life that lacked all sort of sense to him since he was younger than his own youngest.

A long silence stretched between them and Jaime turned his green eyes away from his son to watch the sunset.

“I do love you, Tyrion, and your siblings too.” He finally answered. “You are the reason I’ve lived as long as I have, my bitterness is no fault of yours, none of you.” Jaime hoped Tyrion would catch the meaning, that he didn’t fault his late wife for her own role in what had happened so long ago that most memories had been forgotten, and facts had been blurred. Of course there were songs, but songs hardly ever meant what people thought.

“Then why, father?” Tyrion pressed, without asking all the questions he wanted answered. Why the coldness, the aloofness, the indifference.

This time, Jaime did look at his son in the eye, regretting the hazel shade of them, directly inherited from the Tyrell side of the family; as many other times, Jaime wished they were blue, the icy blue of the far away Wall, of a soft winter morning, Arryn blue.

••• ••• ••• 

**_Lannisport, 378 AC_ **

The tourney was to take place soon, a celebration of twenty years to the day of the marriage between his lord father and his lady mother. The joy in the bustling tents and city was so palpable that even the dour Tywin Lannister was infected by it; Jaime loved the excitement of it all. Visiting lords, ladies and knights from far away lands, even the newly crowned King in the North, who was distantly related to them through lady Alysanne Lannister, who had once been a Stark princess.

At the moment, however, Jaime was scampering on his duty as heir of Casterly Rock in the search for a quiet place to laze around. His horse was taking things with such calm that Jaime thought the beast was being purposefully obtuse about the wants of its master.

Maybe he was too soft with his horse, as he’d been told.

“Please, stop, Ser!” a gentle, feminine voice floated to his ears, making Jaime turn to the side of the road - _if one could call it such_. His green eyes found a young woman, whose sandy blond hair was dishevelled, with curls flying all around her delicate face. She was dressed elegantly, but the style seemed too warm for someone of the West, without accounting for the song of her accent.

Jaime tsked at his horse, and it stopped.

The lady smiled and her clear blue eyes glittered with mischief.

“Will you be so kind to take me wherever you’re going, Ser…?” she trailed off.

“Jaime Lannister, my lady. Of course I will, if you would be so kind to reward me with your name in return?” 

“Celia Arryn.” She answered, then stretching her arm so Jaime would help her onto his horse. Her name stirred something in the back of his mind, but he let go, she was the one daughter of Yohn Arryn, the Lord Protector of the Vale.

They were both silent, hearing the distant notes of music as Jaime guided his loyal horse towards the beach closest to the cliffs, right under the Rock. Lady Celia clapped her hands with enthusiasm when the glittering sea green colour of the Sunset Sea shone on their faces. Jaime felt instantly charmed by her enchanting laugh and innocent antics.

“Father hardly ever lets me out of the Eerie, and I feared he wouldn’t let me see the sea either.” She commented sincerely.

Jaime chuckled.

He knew it was a cynic thought, but he knew little people who spoke sincerely to him; most people wanted to glean something from him. Gold, influence, more gold. Those were the easy ones, others wanted to harm Jaime and his family. Those had, more than once, met their end upon his sword.

“It’s beautiful,” he conceded to the lady. “the most beautiful of all, except maybe for the sea surrounding Tarth.”

The Arryn girl laughed, throwing her head back onto his shoulder, as if they were the best of friends, as if they had grown together into such intimacies. As they obviously hadn’t, Jaime couldn’t help the softening of his feelings towards his companion to the impromptu adventure. They would get in such big trouble.

Everyone in the Six Kingdoms knew that Yohn Arryn and Tywin Lannister didn’t see each other eye to eye after the last Conclave of the Lords, when Queen Elissa Martell had been chosen to rule the Six Kingdoms by the deciding vote of Lord Arryn, passing over Tywin, and thus, humiliating him beyond repair. It was feud that existed long before his birth or that of lady Celia, but it endured, as Jaime well knew.

To make matters worse, they were unchaperoned.

••• ••• ••• 

The hiding he had gotten from his father was well worth it in Jaime’s opinion.

His mother had intervened, arguing that, if Jaime didn’t compete in the tourney to represent House Lannister, it would be unseemly. His father had stayed his hand and conceded to his wife. The ease with which they communicated with each other made Jaime almost envious of his parents.

He’d felt a fraction of that during his afternoon with the Valewoman that Celia Arryn showed him she could be. She hadn’t doubted for a moment when she bested him at rock throwing and wave jumping. Jaime had never experimented such fun in his life.

A life so carefully compartmentalised that he could hardly recall ever having such fun with anyone, not even his brother Cisero, despite their closeness. Cisero too, had a highly watched schedule, and both of them were scrutinized by their father with a firm, sometimes harsh hand.

An idea entered his mind and Jaime smiled as his mother scolded him all the way to his rooms.

••• ••• •••

Lady Celia Arryn smiled from her place in the public, watching the almost obscene display of wealth that Lord Lannister had put for all of his guests, and only to celebrate his marriage to Lady Lannister.

Celia knew all too well that her father and herself had been invited to this tourney because the Arryn was the liege family of House Moore, to whom Lady Lannister had belonged before her marriage to the Warden of the West.

It was the reason for which the feud between her father and Lord Tywin was so famous. Everyone had expected Yohn Arryn to throw his support behind the Lannister lord when the Conclave of the Lords had taken place, more than eighteen years prior, and not too long after the union between Houses Lannister and Moore.

Yet, Celia had spent what was probably the sweetest afternoon of her life in the company of Lord Tywin’s heir.

“Pay attention, Celia.” Her father scolded, a mockery of sternness in his voice as he too, watched with infinite boredom, as knights made their best effort not to fall on their backs or arses.

“Is not like they can surpass the Knights of the Vale, father.” She whispered, making her lord father smile fondly at her.

“Not even Ser Jaime?” her father asked with a smirk.

Celia felt her cheeks turn crimson as she turned her nose up and watched as some knight from House Florent was thrown on his arse in a very unceremonious way, during an extremely short match.

“I know not what you speak of, Lord Father.” She sniffed haughtily. Her father laughed quietly, as not to make the already humiliated knight feel worse.

The tourney was full of expectation and energy. There was a match that everyone was expecting would happen in this day. Ser Vorian Dayne, who had recently been named Sword of the Morning, was supposed to take part in the tourney, something that Celia was impatient to behold. Most people expected that Ser Jaime Lannister and the Dayne knight would exchange blows.

••• ••• ••• 

Jaime was sweating so much that his eyes stung and his breath came in short, shuddering breaths.

Vorian Dayne laughed so hard that he thought the heir to Starfall had gone mad as he rolled on the ground in heaps of laughter.

A frown stole over his face as Jaime waited for the knight to regain his composure. He had absolutely no idea of what had prompted such a violation to knightly decorum, but as he had been victorious, Jaime simply waited it out. The crowd was silent until Vorian’s laugh stopped and he sat on the dusty ground. Then, Jaime offered his hand to help him up.

“You are quite the challenge, Jaime Lannister.” The Sword of the Morning said.

“I can say the same, Lord Dayne.” He reciprocated. This made the man shudder.

“Please, Ser Vorian is fine, my father is Lord Dayne, thank the Seven.”

While they made peace, Tywin’s master at arms announced Jaime as the winner of the tourney. Jaime sheathed Widow’s Wail and mounted his horse to go to his father, receiving his praise as his eyes looked for the blonde head of hair that caught the sunlight in such a way that it seemed like dark, molten gold.

His father placed the crown of bright red roses and intense yellow chrysanthemums that his own lady mother had designed.

“Well done, Son.” His father congratulated, giving him a rare smile that made his eyes seem only remotely gentle. Jaime bowed his head as he spurned his horse into moving towards the lady he’d been looking for. Gathering all of his bravado, Jaime stopped in front of the Vale’s retinue, pushing away any fear of pulling a Harrenhall in his wake.

“Lady Arryn, would you please do me the honour?” he asked.

Celia’s eyes became so wide he almost laughed.

Almost.

She took her crown graciously, and Jaime knew he would never see a woman so beautiful and ethereal ever again.

••• ••• •••

Celia’s feet ached after dancing so much.

She had ignored the chocked look her father had sent her way when Jaime had crowned her his Queen of Love and Beauty. She had been crowned such before, many times over as the only daughter of Lord Yohn Arryn, but most of those times had been out of duty.

Ser Jaime had crowned her because he’d wanted to.

He had asked her to the dance floor so many times that Celia had heard whispers from more than one, about her reputation and Jaime’s, and that of their fathers. She cared not. It was the best night of her life.

••• ••• •••

Jaime waited until his father was out of breath.

The tourney was over as were the following two nights of celebrations, but Jaime hardly cared about that. He was in a battle of wills with his lord father about his actions at the tourney.

“I am sustaining marriage talks with Lord Tyrell.” His father informed him.

Jaime felt as if cold water had been poured over his head.

“No.” he cut.

His father was taken aback, but recovered fast enough.

“What do you mean with ‘no’? You will do as I say, Jaime!” his father roared.

“I don’t want to marry some insipid Tyrell girl!” Jaime roared back. “I want Celia Arryn.”

“I forbid it!” his father retorted in a deathly, quiet tone that Jaime knew to be dangerous, and, had he been thinking straight, he wouldn’t have ignored it.

“Cisero can marry anyone you fucking want, but I’m going to Lord Arryn in this instant to ask for Lady Celia’s hand.” He growled, turning away from his lord father. The possibility of being shunned by his own family was absolutely real, but Jaime couldn’t find it in himself to heed his father’s wishes.

••• ••• ••• 

Lord Arryn had been wary to let his only daughter go with Jaime Lannister, the heir to house Lannister and the golden child of Tywin Lannister, but Celia had been brimming with admiration and infatuation and, Yohn dared say, love.

He’d given them his blessing as they departed into the night with only a little escort and a few bags of gold that Jaime confided, had been gifted to him by his lady mother.

Celia had hugged him hard and kissed his cheeks with a smile, she was wearing her red and yellow crown.

“Thank you, father.” She’d whispered. “I love you.”

Somehow, Yohn couldn’t push away the niggling feeling that it would be the last time he saw his daughter. 

••• ••• ••• 

Celia frowned as her husband entered the room.

She’d been sleeping the day away, unable to withstand the pervasive heat of the summer in any given day, let alone in a place like Volantis.

“Jaime?” she called, as he divested himself from his gloves.

Her husband turned to look at her with a strange look in his eyes, one that she had never seen, cold, calculating, the eyes of a stranger. Celia’s hand moved out of instinct, to cover the tiny bump at her lower belly.

It was so fast that it didn’t even hurt.

Celia felt so cold as her murderer laid her back down on the soft, feather bed.

She simply closed her eyes wishing that Jaime wouldn’t lay his eyes upon her like this.

••• ••• •••

Tyrion sat back, horrified.

His lord father’s eyes were full of tears as he fingered the little handkerchief with three falcons embroidered in it.

“They are buried in a crypt in the Vale.” His father’s voice broke as he clutched the piece of cloth in his hand. “It was a faceless man. Only one person had that kind of gold and enough hate in his heart.”

The fond memories that Tyrion had of his lord grandfather were now tainted with the blood of his father’s first wife and his unborn sibling.

“Father…I…” he stammered, but his father shook his head. “how could you stomach it? Seeing his face every day until he died?”

The feral smile that took over his father’s face prompted a shudder from Tyrion.

“I didn’t have to do anything. Your grandmother, blessed by all the Gods, did it for me.” Tyrion frowned, waiting for his father to elaborate. “When I told her of what had befallen Celia, your grandmother stopped talking to my lord father. She didn’t speak to him, until the day of her very death. That was my revenge. He took away my heart, I took his.”

Tyrion nodded, grasping at his understanding, trying to come around this new knowledge.

“And still, I feel, even today, that it was not enough, Celia was my very soul.” There was no love in the voice of Jaime Lannister as he spoke, only cold, stiff bitterness.

“Would you have done something differently?” Tyrion asked, truly curious, promising himself that he would ask no more.

“No.”

••• ••• ••• ••• •••••• ••• ••• ••• •••


	3. Hightower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The soft whisper of her name was on his lips and he enjoyed the last slivers of light and warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't edit this, I apologize for any mistakes you may find. 
> 
> Life has been a bit much these past few days, but I'm loving these, so I'm not stopping. I'll just have to balance the new job and the writing.
> 
> Thank you for the reviews, I will answer them as soon as I can. 
> 
> Enjoy.

**500 After Conquest**

Jaime laughed until his cheeks hurt from stretching his cheeks in a smile.

Then he looked at Commodore Selmy and his mirth fizzled away like a candle in a windstorm.

“You must be jesting.” He said, still not believing his new assignment.

“I’m being serious, Captain Lannister,” the Commodore said with a sour grimace. “It was handed directly by Admiral Hightower.”

Jaime sneered.

“So, I am to play sitter to a girl all the way to the Stormlands so she can marry, by sea, no less, because her grandfather is our superior?”

“You summarized it adequately.” Selmy sighed as he pushed the paper with the assignment towards him. “The girl is to be there in four months, more than enough time, I’d believe.”

“We are a fleet. A navy, not a damn transportation service.” Jaime complained, taking the sheet of paper with his sentence.

Barristan frowned.

“Watch the language, Jaime, take it seriously, this could be a chance for you to go further up.”

“I don’t want that.” No, Jaime didn’t want to be confined to quarters on land, his life was at sea, he was a captain because he didn’t like to take orders from others, unless they were superior to him in ability.

And not many were.

The Greyjoys, the Redwynes maybe, but Jaime had been a man for the sea since he was a green boy, he was born to be a shipman, to be at sea, with the water under his feet.

“Well then, even if you don’t want it, you have it.”

••• ••• •••

Celia had heard good things about her future husband.

Renly Baratheon was known to be a good man; a loyal warrior and he had a great standing in politics. He had been named after a long dead Baratheon ancestor that had died during the war of the Five Kings.

But most important, Renly possessed wealth.

Apparently, the man was simply, filthy rich.

And her family needed the injection of wealth that such a marriage would bring to the Hightowers. They had a great name, older than the Baratheon name, according to all history books, they had just depleted their wealth stupidly.

Celia was not blind to the abuses within her family, and this would be a way to escape, a way to be free.

Free of the constrains of her name and the poverty that was a constant threat from all sides of the family.

As the carriage took her to the port, Celia gave herself a few moments to breathe.

It was dangerous to travel through land, so she would travel through sea, from Old Town, all the way to Storm’s End. She would be the Lady to one of the great keeps of Westeros after her marriage to Renly Baratheon, and then…then she would have all her life ahead of her, to share with a man she knew nothing of.

Her mother had warned her, hadn’t she?

_“Women like us have no right to find love before marriage.”_

It was a shame.

Celia felt the carriage finally stop, she could also taste the salty air of the port and smell the freshness of the recently caught fish. If there was any other smell, she tried her best to ignore it as she stepped out of the carriage, right in front of the ramp to the ship that would take her away from Old Town forever. Her maid, Eissa, followed her with a little shade, making her smile as they both went into the ship, while Celia ignored the poor shipman that her grandfather had sent to accompany her to the ship of Captain Jaime Lannister.

Another man she knew little about.

Her grandfather had told her that Captain Lannister was a man made to be at sea, intelligent, shrewd and a battle genius; and such a man, her grandfather had play keeper to his granddaughter. It was embarrassing, but again, it was something she had no say in.

The bustling activity of the ship made her smile, even the wary eyes of some members of the crew entertained her. She was hardly scared of old stories and myths about women and the sea, for all Celia knew, she might be able to keep sirens away. The mere thought was derisive enough to make her giggle.

“Is my ship that pathetic to you, Lady Hightower?” a smooth, deep voice asked from behind her.

Celia turned to behold the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

In his gold and blue uniform, with a sable at his hip and a dagger to go with, the tall man that was Captain Jaime Lannister, seemed at once smooth and dangerous. His booths were well worn but expensive, and he was clean shaven, with his hair perfectly styled.

His eyes were the seat itself, a beautiful sea green that was almost hard at first glance, and second too.

“Not at all, Captain.” She answered with s polite smile. “I just like the activity.”

The man stood up straighter, is that was even possible, his chest became broader as pride filled the captain.

“I like my crew to be aware that slacking is not allowed.” He said. “May I show you to your cabin?”

_Suave._

“It would be my pleasure.” Celia said, wanting to stretch the time with the man as long as she could. She wanted to know more about him and thank him for using his time to care for her safe deliverance.

••• ••• •••

Jaime felt cold sweat run down his back as he guided Celia Hightower to her cabin, that was exactly across from his own.

She was beautiful, with her wide, azure blue eyes and hair like spun gold, with skin so white she would surely turn red if the Sun loved her too much at sea. Jaime would have to warn her, or rather her maid.

If he did it himself, Jaime would definitely try to seduce and defile the poor girl, and he had absolutely nothing to offer, other than a career in the navy, under Celia’s grandfather, no less.

This was too unfortunate.

••• ••• •••

Celia stayed in her cabin well after they had departed.

She hadn’t wanted to see her home become tinier and tinier, until it became a wee speck in the interminable blue canvas of the sea. She actually waited until the sun had gone down to finally exit the cabin wit Eissa following her steps as they got to the main deck.

The men were still busy, but the relaxation of the atmosphere was notorious now. One of the men was playing an instrument and some were singing. Celia could swear she heard some notes of _The Mountain Knight and the Maid_ , a famous song in the Stormlands, said to be about the wife of a long dead Baratheon lord. Had she been another person, Celia might have taken offense, but she was hardly a Baratheon, even if she would eventually become one. Captain Lannister was nowhere to be seen, but Celia recognized the tune of _The Rains of Castamere_ as soon as the previous song ended. The music was hauntingly beautiful and the sailors were passably talented at singing.

“My lady, look, the captain,” her maid said, looking at Captain Lannister, who was standing at the stern, looking over the waves. He cut an impressive figure and Celia found herself fighting a blush.

“Please go back to the cabin, Eissa, I’ll take a few moments to talk to the captain.” Celia commanded softly, not used to giving orders.

“But, my lady.” The young maid whined, making Celia smile.

“Please, behave, you can do all the exploring you want tomorrow.”

Her maid finally nodded, resigned, and Celia went to look for the captain.

••• ••• •••

Jaime heard Celia Hightower before he saw her.

She went to stand right at his side, watching the beautiful, all consuming darkness of the water.

“Lady Celia.” He greeted.

“Captain Lannister.” She answered.

The silence stretched between them again, only interrupted by the drunken singing taking place on deck, and the water as they moved past.

“I don’t want to do this.” Lady Celia whispered, barely above the noise. Jaime turned to watch her, most of her face was shrouded in darkness, as the lamps hardly lit up the deck, let alone the whole stern.

“Pardon?” he asked.

“I don’t want to marry Lord Renly. I don’t want to go to the Stormlands. I hate the always overcast skies and the thunder frightens me.” She confessed, rushing her words, as if forcing them out would help her somehow.

“And yet you are doing it?” He asked, trying to confirm her words. Lady Celia nodded.

Jaime felt sorry for her, not pity, he felt real sorrow. Celia was young and beautiful, and she deserved better than being forever tied to someone she hardly knew.

“I could take you anywhere you wish.” He offered, unable to resist the impulse.

Celia smiled, or at least it seemed so.

“Thank you, Captain Lannister, you’re probably the one person to offer me real freedom.”

••• ••• •••

The first moon of their travel became hotter and hotter as they went further south, and Celia seriously hoped that would change once Dorne was properly navigated around and left behind.

Her dresses were hardly appropriate for that weather, and Celia would never go out of the cabin in simply her shift. Usually, she had to wait to the wee hours of the morning to get out of her cabin and have some fresh air around her.

Captain Lannister had actually come to talk to her about her isolation, only to leave flustered when he saw her in her unmentionables. It worried Celia, infinitesimally, but it worried her how much she’d liked the dark blush in Captain Lannister’s face as he saw her in such a state of undress.

It was flattering, to know that she could attract someone like Jaime Lannister.

It was no wonder how intoxicated she felt by her presence, every single time they encountered each other.

••• ••• •••

By the second moon of their journey, it was evident that something was afoot.

Her maid commented nothing of the constant walks that Celia and Captain Lannister often took around the ship, talking and sharing stories, whenever the captain had time to spare, which was not much; but he did make the effort.

••• ••• •••

Jaime knew he was in deep by their third moon traveling.

They had just crossed the stretch between Dorne and the Steptstones, close to the Dorne Sea, almost reaching their destination, and Jaime had never wished more for a journey to last forever.

Celia was wonderful, intelligent, kind, sweet and caring; and he would lose her and have his heart broken in a few more weeks.

He was watching the sunset, contemplating what he would do with his life after Celia was left to start her own new journey. Maybe he could take that post in the navy’s high ranks, away from the sea, numbing his heart for the rest of his days. He’d never given much credit to the old tales of the Lannister’s being cursed in love, but maybe they were. Condemned to love only one woman -and the occasional man- forever, no matter what happened. It was one of the reasons he loved the stories about the Mad King’s Era about how his long dead ancestor, Tywin had loved his lady wife so much, his heart had died the day she perished.

“You’re distracted today, Jaime.” Celia was suddenly at his side, watching the sunset too, her expression a lot less pensive than his.

“I have some good people managing the ship, I believe.” He said, smiling her way and then turning back to the sunset. “Do you ever think about the future?”

Celia didn’t say anything for a few moments and then a long sigh caught his attention, making him look at her sideways. She was beautiful, even with her eyes cast down, her hair shone like polished copper, and her skin glowed under the red and orange lights of the setting sun. Her hands were intertwined and fidgeting nervously.

“All the time.” She looked at him then. “Will you kiss me, Jaime?”

“Yes.” He blurted. He wanted to, more than anything. “I shouldn’t.”

“But you will?” she asked again, her nervousness was betrayed by the shifting of her shoulders and he smiled.

“Yes.”

Jaime knew he would never forget the kiss.

Celia’s soft, rosy lips against his own, slightly dry ones. Her hands gripped his coat and she leaned into his body as his arms circled her waist. Celia smelled like lavender and chamomile, her surprised gasp and the subsequent pleasured sigh as he touched her back, her warmth seeping through the fabric.

If someone saw them, they kept it quiet.

Jaime didn’t miss the glittering look in Celia’s eyes, vibrating with happiness and infatuation.

Gods, he loved her.

••• ••• •••

They were close to the Stormlands, and Celia could feel the oppressing humidity and slight cold of the region start to seep into her body.

A bad, ominous feeling accompanied her constantly now.

Jaime had been a gentleman, courting her in secret ways, even when the both of them knew nothing could come out of it.

_“We should seize what happiness we can with both hands, my love.” He’d said._

Then they encountered a storm.

The ship was badly damaged already, and Celia doubted she would ever feel safe during a storm again when they landed on Tyrosh. Jaime told the crew to look for certain items to repair the most pressing issues of the ship and they did, while he found a place for Celia and her maid to stay.

The first night spent at the little inn was col and humid, that stayed just as pervasive as it was when they were closer to Westeros.

Celia spent most of her time inside, protecting herself from the cold winds that carried between the trees. She received updates on the work being done to the ship, but she couldn’t care less.

Jaime hadn’t come to see her even once.

By the third night, she was ready to climb the walls and Eissa was running out of ways to distract her. At some point, her poor maid had left and hadn’t come back, but Jaime arrived, looking worried and tired.

And Celia decided to relieve his worries in her bedchamber.

••• ••• •••

Jaime was blissfully happy up until Storm’s End was practically on sight.

The previous three weeks had been beautiful and he’d loved Celia to the limits of his strength. No one said anything.

The crew was loyal to him and Jaime didn’t doubt they would back whatever he did, but Jaime knew he couldn’t stain Celia’s honour that way, not more than he had. Even more if he was unable to offer the happiness and protection that the Baratheon name would grant her.

He contemplated his lover and smiled sadly.

He’d had her and he would have to let her go.

••• ••• •••

Renly Baratheon _was_ as good man, that was the thing Jaime hated most about him.

He was gentlemanly, honourable, cordial and charismatic.

Celia seemingly liked him, but the spark that they’ve had from the start was absent, and Jaime had to watch as he placed the Baratheon cloak over Celia’s delicate back, bringing her under his protection.

He was happy that he would only stay until the repairs to the ship were concluded, but he had to bear with the celebration of the wedding, the bedding…everything.

“I told him about us.” Celia confessed. She had arranged the meeting in her personal solar, lied to her new maids, but Eissa had ushered them out and stayed away from them to give them privacy. “Renly was very accepting, said he doesn’t care as long as I give him healthy children.”

Jaime’s heart hurt as if he were bleeding through an open wound.

“I’m glad.” He whispered, looking at his fisted hands. Celia placed her delicate hand over his.

“I’m with child, Jaime. It’s yours.”

He cried.

Jaime hadn’t cried since his parents’ deaths, but the day he found out he was to be a father, he cried. They both cried until the tears ran dry.

And then he left.

••• ••• •••

Celia loved little Gracyella Baratheon with all her heart, her precious golden hair and clear blue eyes, her tinkling laugh and sweet, cheeky disposition were the light of Celia’s life.

Renly said nothing when her daughter was born, he claimed her and only asked for his own children.

They waited three years. It proved a bad idea.

She had only a few moments for her little twins, Steffon and Raymont, before a fever knocked her unconscious. Celia lasted ten days, and then slipped away quietly.

Renly would never marry again.

••• ••• •••

Jaime Lannister could hardly see anything now.

He’d lost most of his hearing long ago, and he remembered little of his life before, only the sound of the waves crashing brought his memories back. His favourite time of the day was the sunset, and Gracyella was always careful and dutiful, making sure to wheel him to the biggest window she could find. He loved the sunset, it reminded him of warmth and he could perceive the colours and the salty breeze from the sea.

The ghost feeling of a kiss tingled on his lips, for a few moments, every day, at sunset, Jaime was again a young man, kissing a beautiful young woman made of bright copper and gold, who smelled like lavender and chamomile, whose name he could never remember. Gracyella loved that story.

Today was different.

Her remembered.

The soft whisper of her name was on his lips and he enjoyed the last slivers of light and warmth.

Jaime closed his eyes, hoping he would find her, wherever he was going.


	4. Lannister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not joining the celebrations?” Jaime turned to see his grandfather standing against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest.  
> “I want to be with my little sister.” He said. “I know she has a wetnurse, but I just…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a little bit of everything, be aware that I've changed the tags and that this chapter is sad and all around awful.
> 
> There's nothing too graphic, but it could be triggering. 
> 
> I recommend listening to either Kingslayer or Nothing Else Matters, from the GoT soundtrack (seasons 3 and 8), that's what I wrote this to, and definitely sets the mood. 
> 
> I hope it lives to the hype, the Lannisters are a warning on their own.

Jaime stood beside the crib, watching his little sister, who was sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the celebrations for her birth. Grandfather Jaime had been absolutely over the moon about the birth of Jaime’s little sister, because Edmond, Jaime’s father, had promised to name the child anything his father wanted.

And so, Jaime’s new sister had been named Celia, after aunt Gracyella’s mother.

This time around, Jaime had been with his lord father while his mother gave birth, it had been long hours, and Jaime’s lady mother wasn’t well just yet, after a few weeks; even that didn’t curb his excitement about little Celia, since she was his one little sister. This time around, he got to be a big brother.

Cersei hadn’t liked that idea, but she was the oldest of all three of them, it wasn’t Jaime’s fault, to be borne after her and also a boy.

“You’re not joining the celebrations?” Jaime turned to see his grandfather standing against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I want to be with my little sister.” He said. “I know she has a wetnurse, but I just…”

Grandfather smiled, but his smile was different from the one he had before, like he was smiling against his best judgement.

“You feel a pull?” he asked. Jaime nodded; he did feel like it was something he couldn’t avoid. Grandfather nodded. “Come here, Jaime.”

He obeyed and walked over to the old man, feeling slightly inadequate under his gaze. Grandfather Jaime put his hands over Jaime’s shoulders and looked at him in the eye. Mother always remarked on how similar their eyes were, the colour of a green sea.

“You protect little Celia, protect her, love her, be the best man you can be, because she will need you. Always.” Jaime blinked, surprised at the serious tone of his grandfather. He had only ever known a jovial man, even if he rarely smiled, even father remarked on that fact. “Honour is important, Jaime, but love is more important.”

Jaime nodded.

“Swear it to me then, boy.”

“I swear, Grandfather, for Celia.”

••• ••• •••

Celia smiled as Cersei’s betrothed placed his light blue cloak over her back, covering the red and golden dress that their father had commissioned for his eldest daughter. She knew that her sister disliked the very notion of marriage, even more to a man like Gale Arryn, but he was the Hand of the King and the Lord Protector of the Vale. It was like marrying into royalty.

“Feeling envy, little sister?” Celia smiled at Jaime’s question. She didn’t adore it when he called her little sister, it didn’t seem appropriate, but he hardly cared about a such conventions.

“Envy? For Cersei’s marriage?” she asked, whispering back to him, as the septon droned on, dragging the ceremony even longer than he already had. “Hardly.”

“Well, they make a fetching couple,” Jaime jested, his sea green eyes glittered with amusement. They both knew Cersei was less than pleased, but their parents had insisted in this marriage. Jaime had a standing betrothal with the Tarlys, and Celia herself was put on the table with the Redwynes. “Very…no, she hates him.”

Celia bit her lip to supress a giggle, but her own emerald eyes threw a mischievous look at her newlywed sister.

“Maybe she will learn to like him, at least not to kill him in his sleep.”

••• ••• •••

Celia danced the night away.

She’d danced with every person she could, but Jaime had danced with her the most. There was a wicked pleasure in knowing that people thought them such good siblings, so united and loving.

Fools, all of them.

Celia and Jaime shared their blood, but they definitely didn’t treat one another as siblings. Every touch, every look, every word, it was carefully orchestrated to make them seem perfect and unquestionable. Every single person at the feast would have been scandalized if they only knew how religiously Celia drank her moon tea, those same people would have been further surprised, baffled even, if they knew the things Jaime said in her ear whenever the chance arose. Some would have had veritable conniptions if they had caught sight of them in their most intimate moments, of the things Celia would say back to Jaime, as if they weren’t tied by blood.

_“The Targaryens did it for centuries. Jaime Lannister and Cersei Baratheon cuckolded the King of the Seven kingdoms. We’re not hurting anyone, Celia. We’re doing this for love.” He’d told her once._

Simple platitudes to alleviate her self-hatred at their sinful actions.

Celia had learned to believe them.

••• ••• •••

The solar was calm, despite how much Jaime had been working, and Celia watched him, contemplating the colour of his hair, more of a sandy blond shade than the pure gold of Cersei’s or hers. His profile was attractive, as was the square of his jaw and the prominence of his cheekbones.

He was so very handsome.

Usually, she wouldn’t have such a long stretch of time to dedicate to her observation of her lover, but their parents were away, taking Cersei to the Vale, helping her settle, at her own request too.

Their lord father had a stern talk with Jaime, leaving him in charge of the Rock and her. As if Jaime had to be told to care for her.

The past moon had been so very blissful, they had even given themselves the luxury of spending the night with each other more than once. Celia could recall with astounding clarity the overwhelming joy she felt when she’d waken to see Jaime’s relaxed face across from hers in the same bed.

“My lord! Raven from the Eerie!” Jaime’s squire was panting, and he looked flustered at finding them together, even if they were fully clothed. Celia smiled at the boy, who then looked away from her shyly.

“No need to shout, Nate,” Jaime admonished, not to seriously, extending his hand to take the parchment scroll. Without hesitation, Jaime broke the seal and unrolled the letter. He frowned and then his eyes became wider and wider as he read. “How long ago did this come?” he asked, practically out of breath.

“A few moments, my lord, what took me to come from the rookery.” Nate said.

Jaime nodded, his shocked expression worrying Celia as she stood to come close to his desk. He stood as well and then fell to his knees.

“Jaime!” she screamed, rounding the desk to find him shoving the letter at her. Cersei’s beautiful calligraphy was distorted in barely legible letters and phrases, but Celia felt nausea rise as she continued to read.

_Jaime, mother and father have died. Their wheeled house was found close to the Eerie, burnt, their bodies already desecrated by the savage beasts of these places. They are gone, little brother! I’m writing this as I pack to go back home, I’m taking their bodies with me._

_Love, Cersei Lannister._

“They were murdered, Celia.” Jaime whispered brokenly. “They were murdered like animals.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, as her eyes filled with bitter tears.

“It wasn’t us.” He said harshly, tugging her to his lap. Celia could hear the door close as Nate left them, most likely to tell the maester or whomever he considered. “But now it’s only us. No one else matters.”

He kissed her hard with pent up anger, with unbridled pain and anguish. He took her right there, beside their father’s desk. She left him. They needed it.

••• ••• •••

Cersei knew something was afoot.

She’d stayed in Casterly Rock after their parents’ burial, if only to stretch her time away from her husband a little more.

Jaime was a decent Lord Lannister, their grandfather had been exceptional, and their father had been grand. Jaime was simply decent, too blinded by pain and co-dependence with their little sister. Celia was acting lady of the keep instead of Cersei and it rubbed her the wrong way, she was older than both of them, and she would have done a much better job.

While they were all mourning, Cersei noticed the closeness of her siblings and started asking questions. No one had dared say anything against the new Warden of the West and it irritated her, when all else failed, she went through other routes. The new maid she placed with Celia was loyal only to gold, and Cersei had been able to pay the best price.

Now, the information she’d received left her astounded.

Sweet, little Celia was a brother-fucker, and honourable, valiant Jaime was a sister-fucker. Not only that. Celia was with child, if the maid was not wrong, and according to what the woman herself had heard about the lady Celia’s moonblood not arriving.

All of this took her to the Lord’s solar and to Jaime, who was reading through whatever had taken his attention.

She sat in front of the desk, enjoying the power, relishing on the hold she’d have once Jaime knew as well.

“What is it, dear Cersei?” Jaime inquired sardonically. She abhorred that tone in his voice. Jaime had only ever been snarky and defensive towards her, all for the simple sin of not liking their little sister.

“I know you secret, sweet brother.” She said with a smile.

“Not that I have any,” he answered, still not bothering to look at her.

“Oh,” Cersei was almost giddy with excitement as her words formed in her mind. “So if you have not been fucking our little sister, who got her with child?”

The reaction wasn’t explosive, but it was…satisfying.

Jaime dropped his quill and froze on his seat. “What?”

“Celia is pregnant, and if I’m not wrong, she is having _your_ child.” Cersei said slowly, savouring each word.

She didn’t expect Jaime’s hands to curl around her neck, hard. She had never seen the look in his eye, not this one at least. Cold, calculating, merciless.

“Are you going to out us to the world, Cersei?” he asked, his voice sounded flat, even, void of emotion. Cersei could barely shake her head no, and air was becoming scarce. “Well then, you better go back to the Eerie, then, your husband must miss you.”

Cersie coughed a bit, trying to breathe as deep as she could. Jaime had genuinely tried to kill her.

“Remember our father’s word is with the Tarlys and the Redwynes.” She wheezed, trying to get the upper hand again.

“I’m Lord Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport, the House Tarly and House Redwyne can go fuck themselves.”

••• ••• •••

Celia drank the tea her maid had taken to her dutifully.

She’d been feeling weak for weeks, even though she knew she would, she didn’t expect this extreme, debilitating weakness to be a companion of her pregnancy.

“How are you feeling, Celia?” cousin Lucius asked, watching her carefully as she drank.

“It’s not getting better.” She admitted.

Celia had married Lucius a few weeks after Cersei had left Casterly Rock. Jaime had confessed that she knew about them and their babe, that they needed to protect the family legacy and the name of House Lannister. Aunt Gracyella had suggested her own son. Lucius had a known preference for men, and Celia had eyes only for her brother, it was the best solution they could have found. Lucius was more of a bodyguard than a husband, and well, no one dared ask about the timing and the child.

“Celia?” Lucius called.

“Yes?” she asked, turning to look at him.

“You have a nosebleed.” He said, watching her and giving her a handkerchief to clean herself. Only his blue eyes turned wide with horror. “Gods.” He whispered, terror practically dripping from his voice.

“What?” she asked again, panicked now.

“There’s too much blood, Gods!” Lucius whispered. Celia touched her face, finding her cheeks wet, and then she saw her fingers. They were stained with blood.

The pervasive dizziness she’d been feeling became more evident as she fell back on the pillows with the world spinning around her.

She could hear her cousin screaming, calling for the maester, calling for Jaime.

Jaime arrived right after the useless maester.

“Celia.” He whispered, as horrified as Lucius, maybe more so. If she had saw what he did, she would have been just as terrified.

“Jaime, I’m so cold.” She complained as he took her in his arms.

“It’s fine, my sweet girl, it’s fine, I’m here,” his voice trembled, even if the words comforted her. Celia lifted her hand, it was so red, as if she’d dipped it in blood, she even stained Jaime’s cheek.

“Jaim-”

••• ••• •••

The master was standing in the corner of the room, horrified beyond belief when he came into the room, and Jaime wanted to scream when he saw Celia laying on the bed.

Her face was stained with blood. Her nose and eyes were dripping with it, and her ears too, were bleeding, staining her beautiful, long hair. And between her legs, there was so much blood… there was no way their babe…their sweet babe.

Still, he gathered Celia in his arms. She was breathing heavily, her own skin staining crimson as the corners of her lips became saturated with her blood, trailing down her chin, mixing with the nose and eye bleeding.

“Jaime, I’m so cold.” He could barely hear her over his own pounding heart.

Could the gods be so cruel? Would they take her too?

“It’s fine, my sweet girl, it’s fine, I’m here,” he whispered, not wanting to sound as horrified as he felt. Celia lifted her hand to touch his cheek, it was red, all so red.

“Jaim-”

Celia’s hand fell to the bed and she went limp in his arms. Her eyes were still open, fixed on his face, their light extinguished forever. His hand was shaking when he closed them.

Jaime remembered crying only twice in his life. When his mother had nearly died miscarrying a babe after Celia, and when his parents had been buried. As he held Celia’s body to his own, Jaime smelled the fresh lavender in her golden curls tainted with the metallic smell of her blood, he kissed her temple, her forehead, her lips.

And he cried.

He cried and sobbed and felt his eyes burn in a pain he’d never known before that day.

Someone tried to pry Celia away from him and Jaime roared at everyone to leave.

Jaime had failed his one purpose in this life, hadn’t he? He had promised to take care of Celia, to protect her, to cherish her and love her always.

Now she was dead and getting cold in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Celia, so sorry.” He repeated the words until his voice went hoarse. It took hours. The sun dipped and night fell, then the sun rose again, shining on him as he held the body of his beloved sister and lover in his arms.

“Call for the Silent Sisters.” He heard himself say to the first, brave servant that dared approach the room again.

After placing Celia back on the bed, making sure that she laid back perfectly still, he left the room and locked himself in his study for three days.

••• ••• •••

“We thought it would be poetic, you know?”

Jaime lifted his head in the direction of the mocking voice, he should have been alone, as he had made sure to lock himself and block the secret entrances to his study. And yet, the beautiful, dark woman was standing by the heart, watching the flickering embers of the fire he’d kept going with whatever he found in the study.

The woman was tall, dark and beyond beautiful, with her perfectly bald, shiny head that connected with a delicate neck and a very much naked back. She was wearing a silky black dress that showed the unnatural thinness of her body.

“Go away.” Jaime spat, reaching for whatever wine he had left.

The woman laughed and turned up one of the chairs Jaime had thrown in his rage.

“I thought you would have questions, for example, who are you, or what are you doing here.” She said, her unnatural golden eyes fixated on him. Jaime raised a brow. “You really do not care…remarkable.” She seemed genuinely surprised.

“As I said, _go away._ ” He repeated, harsher this time. She smirked.

“No, Jaime Lannister, I’m not going away, see, I have something to discuss with you.”

“I don’t care.” He retorted.

“You should, it is about Celia, after all.”

_That_ made him perk up.

The woman laughed, and this time Jaime felt a shiver run down his back. It was an unnatural sound, high pitched, unpleasant, unnatural; it echoed in the almost empty room.

“Well, at least you have realised,” she said. “it took you three life times to catch on, and you did it in the worst possible one, good job.”

Jaime said nothing, waiting for the woman to continue, his curiosity piqued.

“Once, you said that the gods like to spill blood, and we do.”

_We?_

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked now.

“Well, I’m the Stranger.”

It was the stupidest thing he’d heard in his life; it was even more stupid when she joined that laugh.

“It was a different lifetime, of course,” the woman, _the Stranger_ , said. “you were a completely different man too, but boy, you like to pick them close to the family. And it wasn’t even the right one.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jaime asked, pouring himself some wine.

“Well, you fucked one sister previously, and now you fucked the other, at least it seems to me, that you keep to the sister-fucking consistently.” The Stranger ignored him.

Jaime sat back, completely baffled. Of course there were rumours, stories. The Starks had always made sure to remind the Lannisters that the War of the Five Kings had been cause by their house.

She smirked at him, but only briefly.

“I’m talking about Ser Jaime Lannister, husband to Celia Tully” the Stranger said, her voice serious now. “or Lord Jaime Lannister, widow to Celia Arryn,” Jaime stopped pouring. “Captain Jaime Lannister, lover of Celia Hightower.”

“W-what?”

The Stranger smiled. It was predatory, savage…evil.

“The Gods get bored, Jaime, we’ve been around much longer than…anything.” The woman shrugged. “Mortals are entertaining, and, every once in a while, we get obsessed with one or two. You and Celia? Well, that’s what happened.”

Jaime chuckled from sheer incredulity. “Impossible.”

“Really?”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake!” he exclaimed.

The woman stood and morphed in front of him. Golden hair sprouted from her head in the familiar, gracious waves and her skin became lighter and lighter as she changed, then her eyes turned emerald and Celia stood in front of him, whole again.

“Celia…” he whispered reverently.

“Not Celia, just the illusion of her.” The Stranger’s voice was the same. Jaime blinked and the dark skinned, beautiful woman was back. “I have a proposal for you, Jaime Lannister.”

He narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

The Stranger smirked.

“I will let you keep your memory of this encounter, because I want to win this bet I have, with the Father and the Crone. They’ve won three lifetimes already, four if we count this one,” the distaste in her face became feral. “they think they are so powerful…” she scoffed. “Every generation or lifetime, you and Celia get another chance to reunite, see, the Mother created you from the same soul, sentimental idiot she is.”

Jaime shook his head. 

“Yes, she did.” The Stranger corrected. “we like to play with such souls, but it’s become personal for me. I need you to reunite with Celia, whichever.”

“What do I need to do?” he asked. He would do anything. He’d sworn it once, hadn’t he?

The Stranger smiled.

••• ••• •••

Jaime came out of the study in the fourth day.

The preparations for Celia’s funeral were well underway, as Lucius had taken over with his brother, Cornelius.

“It was poison.” Lucius told him. Jaime had summoned him to his chambers to speak to him about what he would do next.

“I know, syphon poison.” It was a poison discovered in Eddarhos. It caused the victim to bleed to death, but it had to be administered in increasing doses over time. It was a fast sort of slow death. The symptoms Celia had been suffering were not her pregnancy, it was the poison. “Throw her maid, the newest, in the cells, I will execute her tomorrow.”

Lucius simply nodded.

He had sentenced the maid to death in the most discreet ceremony he could, shopping off her head with the family sword, _Oathkeeper_. Then he had turned to his cousin Cornelius, who had become his advisor and acting second in command during Jaime’s absence.

“Find me the best assassin you can.”

••• ••• •••

Jaime felt nothing.

He was sitting in front of Celia’s crypt. It was a bad habit now; one he couldn’t make himself quit. He had loved her, cared for her, protected her and that love he felt had killed her.

_His fault._

Cersei had confessed to the assassin, for whatever reason. She had asked for mercy too. And the assassin had come to tell him what his sister had done, not that Jaime needed to know. His dark, unnatural friend had told him that night, almost a year ago. Since then, Jaime had been guarding Celia’s crypt as if it were his new task. He really had nothing else to live for now… his revenge tasted like ashes.

_His fault._

Lucius was the acting Lord of Casterly Rock, and the keep worked as perfectly as it did when Celia was by his side. It made things impossibly worse.

The world was moving on without her. That was _his fault._

“I know people talk about me liking this sort of places, but I most certainly do not.”

Jaime turned to look at the Stranger, she was wearing a deep green gown this time, so deep it seemed black, the fabric clung to her with the unnatural beauty that seemed to be an aura around her.

“Silent _you_ is not a very compelling companion.” She commented as she sat by his side, looking elegant even sitting on the low, cold floor. 

“You’ve come to have me fulfil my part on the bargain?” he asked.

“I have. Don’t think I haven’t worked out your motivation, Jaime Lannister.” Stranger smiled. It was that unnatural smile of hers that made Jaime shiver in fear. “How will you do it?” she asked, watching him, golden eyes peering into his soul.

Jaime had thought long and hard about how he wanted to die. His answer was always invariably the same. In the arms of the woman he loved.

Apparently, his answer came up to his face, because the Stranger looked away with a expression that, had he seen it in anyone else, he would have though of it as sadness. It could only be pity.

“It’s a pretty dream. Maybe one day.” She took his hand and Jaime felt the weight materialize on his palm.

It was easy and Jaime didn’t even have to push hard. He had killed, he knew how and where it would be most efficient.

Faster.

The cold became a welcome feeling as the blood seeped out, but Jaime's eyes were fixed where he aimed to be for the rest of eternity.

••• ••• •••

Cornelius sighed as the crypt was closed.

He hoped the question never came up, ever. Of why Jaime and Celia Lannister were buried in the same crypt. He wouldn’t attempt to understand, Jaime had been clear in his instruction.

Continue House Lannister.

Leave the journal for the next Jaime Lannister.

Bury me with _her._

As he turned to leave the crypts, Cornelius closed his eyes, trying to erase the pool of blood he’d seen when he’d found Jaime. The worst part was the expression in his cousin’s face.

He was at peace.

••• ••• ••• ••• ••• •••


	5. Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celia nodded and Jaime sat by her side.
> 
> He was warm and solid beside her.
> 
> And he was her family now.
> 
> He was pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday so we obviously get a chapter.   
> Not to say it's not sad, because it is. I cried.   
> I cry a lot about these two lately.

**609 After Conquest**

**•••**

Celia was looking at her brother in shock.

“You’re jesting.” She said, not quite asking.

Her brother, Torrhen II Stark, King in the North, shook his head.

“I wish.” He groused, passing a hand through his dark curls, grey eyes tired and haunted. Benjen seemed as shocked as Celia.

“He can’t be serious, not after all he’s done.” Benjen said, taking the letter from Torrhen’s hands. It was absolutely clear, however.

_Dear brother,_

_I have a proposal that will save Westeros much blood bath after these tumultuous years. I need to control the heir of the Westerlands, he needs a wife. I hardly trust his lord father to make a match that will keep them all in line. Our sister is the one person I trust enough to send to the Westerlands as the betrothed wife to the heir of the Lannisters. Should you deny this request brother, I’ll make the Six Kingdoms, Seven._

_Rickard Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Six Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm._

Celia looked at her king brother in the eye. His desperation was plain to see, he had barely kept the peace after the Targaryen Reestablishment War. No one had expected Queen Mya Arryn to die so suddenly in childbirth, and when the Conclave of the Lords had taken place, Rickard’s election blindsided all of them. He was just a representative of the North, not a citizen of the Six Kingdoms. The Conclave argued that Rickard had Targaryen blood, no matter how diluted it was, he only had to renounce the Stark name.

Rickard did.

A revolt had started and the people of Westeros expected a diplomatic resolution, the northern kings were known for being good, honourable people.

They had gotten an almost savage response from the newly minted Targaryen King.

The Six Kingdoms reeled after the Battle of Stoney Sept, a bloody, seven-day affair that had killed so many, the numbers were still being counted, almost three years later.

Their brother was a changed man at the end of it all. The jovial young man they had sent to the Conclave had become broody and paranoid king, even if he was a great general and intelligent monarch. Rickard married a Rosby girl - _Patriscia or some other_ -, who no one would have looked at otherwise and had quickly gotten her with child. None of them had ever seen the child, but Rickard’s announcement had shocked everyone.

Even the North.

The child born from the young Queen had been named Duncan Targaryen, and he had been anointed Prince of Dragonstone and ravens had been sent, announcing that Duncan was also Crown Prince.

Now, whatever was brewing in the Westerlands, worried Rickard enough to blackmail the rest of his family.

Celia closed her eyes.

The North was worth it. She wouldn’t force her brother to kneel to a Targaryen ruler, not again, and much less, their own damn brother.

“Make him pay a price so high, no southron king will try this again, but tell him I’ll do it.”

••• ••• •••

Jaime was waiting for the news his father had summoned him to receive.

His father was not old by any means, but Jaime could see the clear worry lines in his face as he looked at some point into nothingness.

“The king has found a match for you.” His lord father told him, extracting a letter from the drawer of his desk. “You are to marry in King’s Landing, to princess Celia Stark.”

A barrage of questions invaded Jaime’s mind as he heard his father speak, trying to impart why it was important that he behaved and tried not to do something stupid while in the capital. He heard almost nothing.

He was to marry Celia.

_Celia Stark._

His heart constricted at the thought.

Any Celia that crossed paths with a Jaime Lannister never lived long. He’d read the journal the previous Jaime had left. He knew the horrible things that other ancestors of his had done. Could he do that to another innocent woman?

••• ••• •••

Celia had the impression that her betrothed disliked her, for some reason unknown to her, of course.

They had exchanged a few words in front of her brother and that had been it.

Jaime Lannister was a very handsome man, if a bit broody and arrogant, but he didn’t give Celia the impression of being interested in marriage. She had wanted to slap her brother in the face for his stupid decision making, but traded her rage for pleasantries with his wife.

Patriscia Targaryen was a delicate looking girl, whose chestnut hair got constantly tangled in the scale like texture of her crown, she was heavy with child and caring for little Duncan with a determination and protectiveness that Celia couldn’t blame her for.

Little Duncan had suffered three attempts on his life in as many years.

“He looks like father.” Celia said, trying not to get too distracted as she gave finishing touches to her maiden cloak. She had never expected to have to marry in the South, she was a Stark Princess, they married in front of the Old Gods, not surrounded by cold, empty statues of young gods. Her journey to the capital of the Six Kingdoms had resulted productive to creating her cloak, however, as she spent many a sleepless night working on it.

“The King says the same thing.” Patriscia said with a proud smile. “tell me, lady Celia, you think that were you to have a girl, she could marry Duncan?”

Her good sister was a well-intentioned girl, Celia could practically see it, but Celia hated her own marriage prospects, not the man, the situation. She would hardly expose her own children to such things.

“It’s a bit too soon to decide over that, Your Grace, maybe once I’m with child.” She deflected. This seemed to placate Patriscia, who beamed at her.

“It’s a fine idea, to wait I mean.” The queen nodded shyly. Celia smiled, wanting to hit her brother again for marrying a girl with such lacking of political ability. Whatever he’d seen in his wife, Celia doubted it was love that drove him to the marriage.

And he had the gall to dictate who _she_ should marry.

••• ••• •••

Rain had been falling for days, and the sky was so overcast that it seemed as if the Sun had decided to hide behind the clouds forever.

Celia married Jaime Lannister wearing a light grey gown, which gave the impression of being much darker in the present weather. She disliked the gown on principle because it was too southron for her taste, made with heavy silk and covered in white Myrish lace with a soft veil that, according to her good-sister, was the rave in the South.

Rickard had wanted to give her away, but Celia denied him the privilege with a simple excuse.

“You’re no longer a Stark of Winterfell, Your Grace.”

The words of the Seven Faces of God were empty to Celia, and that’s how she found herself sitting in front of the enormous old oak in the centre of the Red Keep’s Godswood. None of those things were the same. 

“You shouldn’t be alone here, Lady Lannister.”

Celia turned towards the voice of her new husband, who seemed to be at ease, while his eyes spoke of paranoia and fear.

“I don’t believe in the Seven.” She said as justification, this made her husband’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“I thought the North had adopted the Seven after Sansa the I’s reign.”

Celia almost snorted. Her ancestor hardly believed in anyone but the Stark family. It was Jon Snow who believed in the old gods and the Night King.

“A misconception, I assure you.” Celia whispered, not wanting to disturb the peace she felt for such little time today. It kept thoughts of committing regicide away.

“May I sit with you? I won’t disturb you more than necessary, my lady.”

Celia nodded and Jaime sat by her side.

He was warm and solid beside her.

And he was her family now.

He was pack.

••• ••• •••

Casterly Rock was…not awful.

It was no Winterfell with its grey stones and old masonry or warmth, but it was beautiful in its own way, with its white stone walls and entrances that were shaped out of the rocks that made the keep itself so impenetrable, despite the stories of how Tyrion Lannister, Hand of Queen Daenerys Targaryen had indeed invaded his own home, so long ago.

The thought made Celia’s mouth feel sour, and it had nothing to do with her debilitating morning sickness. Were all the Targaryen monarchs so problematic? Either they were insane, or absolute cruel rulers; not one of them seemed to be able to do any good for their people, and her brother was no exception even if the people were making advances during his reign.

Her little one kicked and Celia forgot all about her brother and his egocentric ways. She felt so incredibly lonely in the West. Her good father liked her enough, as did most of the people in the keep, that had been long without a lady to manage it. Now, that responsibility was entirely on her shoulders, but her good father and husband were doing all they could to let her be comfortable while she was with child.

Many a night, Celia tried to imagine how her child would look like. Would they look Stark or would they look Lannister? Her dreams often took her to a lovely snowed clearing, where a blond toddler with dark grey eyes played on the snowy ground, rolling over the soft snowflakes. She wanted her child to look like their father, maybe that way, one Lannister would actually love her.

As much as it hurt to admit it, Celia had started respecting her husband after marrying him, and now, more than two years after their marriage, she knew that the begrudging affection had become love. The problem was that Jaime did not love her back, not even a little. Her lord husband was indifferent to her at the best of time, and completely ignoring her at worst. Sometimes, Celia wondered if he hated her.

Her life was not completely sad, but it definitely lacked the shine of happiness, and for that, Celia resented Jaime, as much as she loved him; and she hated her brother, as much as she had once adored him.

••• ••• •••

Jaime watched as Celia walked with her slippers in her hand, letting the warm water of the Sunset Sea wash over her bare feet and the hem of her dress. She looked radiant and healthy, and the roundness of her belly made for a beautiful image, as her dark curls floated in the wind.

His heart ached with love and longing, wishing he could just take her hand and walk beside her, instead of following her at a certain distance, watching over her. But Jaime knew better than to express the depth of his adoration. It wouldn’t end well for any of them, but mostly for Celia. He loved his wife, her spirit, her fight and the fire he saw in her eyes; and he wanted her to live a long life.

It hurt when he forced himself to ignore her, or made himself show indifference to something she had interested in. When Celia had presented him with the little handkerchief that depicted a lion, a slightly tinier wolf and a little lion cub, Jaime had almost cried. They were having a child.

Then he remembered the lines of the journal.

_She was with child, and she died because of my stupidity and our sins._

Jaime had been stoic and it hurt him to see the deep pain in his wife’s grey eyes as he simply took her pregnancy as a natural occurrence that should have happened earlier. His lord father had been much more excited than Jaime had shown himself. He actually had never felt his own child inside Celia’s belly, even if he saw the constant wonder in her eyes whenever their babe moved or did something different, like responding to the sound of her voice. Jaime cursed every one of the Gods for being so cruel, he just wanted Celia to live and to be happy, but apparently, those things were mutually exclusive.

He would protect her; he had promised himself he would.

••• ••• ••• 

Celia couldn’t but ask herself if maybe her husband held a bit of affection for her.

The man had barged into the birthing chamber while she was groaning in pain and he had stayed with her for the entire ordeal, until their sweet babe had been placed at her breast.

A boy with his hair and his nose too.

Celia had cried, Jaime cried too and their child simply slept.

Tiberius Lannister was a sweet child, he slept most of the time, he ate in normal hours and he too, liked to be held and sang to when he felt sad or afraid, or whatever emotion was that children as little as her babe felt. Celia was utterly convinced she had never loved anyone as much, and she doubted she would again.

Torrhen had sent a winter cloak fit for a toddler, which Celia understood all too well. He was asking for a visit. Rickard sent his congratulations and asked for a betrothal with his daughter, the babe that Patriscia had been carrying when Celia married Jaime. None of them had given themselves the chance to answer that particular raven.

“Well, we can visit the North once he’s made it to his first nameday.” Jaime suggested, seemingly excited at the idea of visiting the ‘foreign’ kingdom.

“I would like that, my lord.” Celia answered softly, as she lulled little Tiberius asleep.

••• ••• •••

“The man loves you, sweet sister.” Torrhen said, smiling as they watched Tiberius and little Ned play on the snow. Tiberius had the same grey eyes little Ned had, but where Ned had dark curly hair, Tiberius had blond waves.

Celia scoffed. “He loves his mare a lot more than he does me. His father was more excited about Tib than Jaime himself. You could have said he was not the father, judging by his face. And you like him because he brought the sword to you.”

Her brother shook his head; it was true that Jaime had brought back the sword that had been part of Ice, the ancient Stark sword, and the handle was a close as the old valerian steel blade as it had been with it was a monstrosity taller than Celia herself. “What would you know, Celia? If you’re not looking for the signals, you won’t find them.”

Celia closed her eyes, not wanting to cry in front of her brother and the children.

“That is the issue, Torrhen, I’ve been watching since the first day.”

••• ••• •••

Celia was heavily pregnant with their second child when Jaime caught a fever.

When the first chills started, he dismissed the gravity of the situation, then, he was not able to get out of his bed, and his whole body was aching.

Celia had begged to be let into his room to care for Jaime, she argued, she asked, she pleaded and finally, she begged, but her good father’s answer was the same.

“It’s too dangerous for you and the babe.”

Tiberius noticed and he spent most of his time glued to her, as if he could feel something was wrong.

A fortnight went by.

And then, in the middle of the night, Celia was shaken awake by her good father, who dismissed decorum and propriety for a few moments to tell her that Jaime was calling for her.

Celia walked as briskly as her big belly allowed her and arrived to her husband’s room only to see that the master was gone, and in his place was their septon. Realisation suddenly hit her.

_Jaime was dying._

Tears choked her as she sat by the bed and took Jaime’s dry and hot hand. He was almost delirious, calling her name, calling his mother’s name, calling for their son.

“I’m here, Jaime, I’m with you.” She whispered, barely keeping her voice even as she took his hand to her cheek. It felt too hot.

“Celia, I have to protect Celia.” Jaime whispered in despair, almost taken by the fever.

“I am safe, Jaime.” She whispered as well; this time unable to hide the break in her voice.

“Can’t tell her I love her.” He muttered, turning his head away, then back, listless and completely unaware of how her heart had been simultaneously filled and then utterly destroyed. 

“She knows.” Celia said, unable to see him clearly. “She knows you love her, my beloved. She loves you too.”

“No, no, she will hate me, don’t tell her.” Jaime cried, shattering whatever was left of her heart.

“I won’t, Jaime. No one will tell her.” Celia promised, holding his hand with both of hers. She stayed by his side until dawn.

Celia didn’t notice him slip away until his hand fell limp from between hers.

Even then, she couldn’t cry.

••• ••• •••

Celia named their daughter Jane.

For Jaime.

Jaime’s father had lived long enough to see his second grandchild be born, a beautiful girl with sandy blond hair and eyes so green they could only be Lannister green.

The man had simply fallen sleep in front of the fire one night, and he had never woken up again.

Celia became the acting Lady of Casterly Rock and Lady Paramount of the Westerlands until Tiberius became of age.

When the people tried to pounce over the Westerlands, including Rickard, Celia had all the minstrels of the Westerlands called to Casterly Rock and invited every lord she could to a big feast that even her brother had attended.

She had them play _The Rains of Castamere_ the whole night.

No one dared question her after, not for the next fifteen years.

••• ••• •••

Jane Lannister smiled as her mother checked over her embroidery with careful grey eyes.

“It’s perfect, my love.” Her mother said, with a smile of her own.

They had been working on the maiden cloak for months ahead of the wedding, that would take place soon enough. Jane was to marry Ser Armand Hightower of Old Town upon her twentieth nameday. Her brother was to present her, as Lord of Casterly Rock and only male of the family with rank enough; Tiberius’ wife and their lady mother would stay in the Rock, while the two of them made the journey to Old Town.

“Thank you, mother.” Jane said, feeling truly grateful, knowing that she wouldn’t be the lady she was, were it not for her mother and her efforts.

There was even a song about it, _The Wolf and her Lion Cub_ , about how her mother had defied the king - _her own brother_ \- to help Jane marry for love, and Jane did love Armand.

“I just wish father could see me.” Jane lamented.

Her mother froze, as she usually did, letting her grief cloak her for a whole moment before she recovered.

“Wherever he is, I know he is watching, Jane.” Her mother smiled and caressed her cheek, looking into her sea green eyes. “and he would be proud of his daughter.” 

••• ••• •••


	6. Baratheon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Light of the East was back home.
> 
> Yet she felt no light, all her days were grey, even when the sun shone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a struggle.   
> And still, I liked the end result. I know it's not very detailed, but hey, I'm summarizing a whole lifetime each chapter.   
> You will see another of Boundless' fantastic OCs here. I hope I did them all some justice.

_**660 After Conquest** _

**••• ••• •••**

Ser Jaime smiled as Lady Celia’s father agreed with his own lord father.

“Jaime shall inherit the Rock upon my death, as such, I believe that he and the Lady Celia should make their live at Lannisport.” His father said. Lord Seneca Lannister smiled proudly at his soon to be good daughter and his son.

Lord Oris nodded. “I agree, I think a year from now would be an appropriate time for them to marry.”

Lord Seneca agreed as well. “We’ll be glad to take the Light of the East under our protection.”

Lord Oris laughed deep at this declaration, his daughter was, indeed, the light of his life, and now she would have all she deserved. The maester at Storm’s End dotted the last lines and handed the papers for them to sign, while the septon blessed the union with his signature as well.

“We’ll have it sent to the Citadel at first light.” Lord Oris said, after they all signed.

The toast with the best wine of the Westerlands felt like the Seventh Heaven for Jaime.

He had trained and fostered at Storm’s End when he was a child and that was how he had met the daughter of Oris Baratheon, Lady Celia. And Gods, did he adore her, with her hair dark as night and eyes blue as the Summer Sea, he couldn’t imagine his future without her by his side. Jaime was lucky that she had first considered him a friend. They knew each other so well, that sometimes their thoughts were in tune; even if they had their moments. Celia was gentle where he was rash, she was patient where he was impulsive, and humble to his arrogance. Still, they made a good match.

And now, Jaime would marry her and make her happy, as happy as she made him.

••• ••• •••

Celia was worried.

Suddenly, Lord Seneca had fallen ill and Jaime had been called back to Casterly Rock. Her betrothed didn’t even consider a wheeled house, he left as soon as the raven had arrived, riding his horse at top speed. Celia had watched him from the tallest tower of the castle, until he became impossible to distinguish in the horizon.

On top of all that, her father had informed her that they would be receiving one of the Targaryen princes for…whatever it was they wanted.

It wasn’t that Celia didn’t care about the royal family, but she didn’t like them that much either. Yes, they deserved some sort of consideration, if only because they had some sort of stable government body, and nothing else.

The thoughts of the prince vanished as soon as she pricked her finger with her embroidering needle. It was a relief that the blood didn’t touch the yellow field of her maiden cloak, she hoped the it wouldn’t be noticeable in the black thread of the stag she’d so painstakingly formed for months now.

••• ••• •••

Daeron Targaryen was…considerably charmed by the daughter of his host.

Lady Celia was referred to as _The Light of the East,_ and now, Daeron knew why. She was like the embodiment of light, happiness and fierceness. The perfect balance between Baratheon fury and ladylike diplomacy, intelligence and tact.

It didn’t hurt how beautiful she was, with her sun kissed skin, her hair black as night and the clear blue colour of her eyes. Daeron would have stopped himself from declaring that he had intentions towards Celia if he had known what would happen, but he was in love, and they were all so young. Daeron had wanted to give her the world, to have her see everything he could.

Celia had been shocked, and Daeron had loved the fury in her eyes, her fierce anger at him exposing her to the world, declaring for her during a celebration was akin to announcing a public engagement.

He was, in fact, challenging Jaime Lannister’s suit.

“I don’t think destroying her reputation and that of her father is a wise decision, Daeron.” Martyn Martell had warned him. Daeron ignored his best friend and advisor.

“I think she will eventually love me, what do you know?” he’d asked with a smile.

••• ••• •••

Jaime was furious.

He couldn’t believe the nerve of Daeron Targaryen. It was one thing to ask Celia’s father for her hand, even though it was already promised to Jaime himself, but it was another, completely disrespectful and scandalous to ask for Celia’s hand, to her, in front of the whole ton of people in her own home while he was a guest.

Was the man even thinking?

Celia was his hostess, a woman engaged, but still living in her father’s home. It implied for one, that Celia wasn’t careful of her reputation, and for another, that her father was lax about it as well, if only to get his daughter a better suitor.

Jaime had just buried his own father and his affairs were haunting Jaime’s waking and sleeping hours. He wanted to court his fiancé and marri her and have her in his home. Was that too much to ask? Just a few months of peace?

“I have to go back to Storm’s End, mother.” He’d told her while he packed to travel light, making sure to have his Lannister cloak with him, for if he needed to marry Celia on the spot.

He wouldn’t let this stand.

••• ••• •••

Celia heard the quiet knock on her door and she made sure to put her robe on before opening the door. Her head maid was waiting for her, looking dishevelled from sleep but her eyes were bright with emotion. 

“Your Lord father is wanting you in the sept, my lady.”

Celia nodded and went while her maid stayed behind a few moments.

The coldness of winter was already seeping so far south that Celia was shivering when she arrived at the sept. She took in the familiar stained-glass windows and how the candles were lit. Her father and the septon were waiting for her.

“Father?”

“My light, finally.” Her father seemed relieved to see her, and he smiled softly.

“You called for me?” she asked, wanting him to simply tell her why he was being so secretive, but she understood, even more after the disastrous ball in which the prince had…

“Yes, Celia. Ser Jaime is here and we’ve spoken.” Her father took her hands. “Would you accept to marry him tonight?”

Celia’s eyes widened and she looked around them.

“He’s washing some of the mud off, my light.” Her lord father said, not even needing her to explain.

“I do want to marry him, father, but isn’t it dangerous?” Celia asked, trying to ignore the slight foreboding she felt in the back of her mind.

“Jaime wants to protect you, my light, and I’m inclined to agree with him, what prince Daeron did was…not the best decision.”

Celia nodded. “I left my maiden cloak in my rooms.”

“My lady!” her maid exclaimed, keeping her voice low, the woman was carrying her maiden cloak. Celia smiled and she sat for her father to put the cloak over her shoulders.

“Celia?”

They turned to see Jaime coming in. He had barely cleaned his face and hands, he was wearing no coat, only his shirt, and he was carrying his own cloak, in red and gold.

“I suppose we’re ready?” Septon Halcion intervened.

They both nodded.

••• ••• •••

Daeron was waiting for lady Celia while her father ordered some food or other to be added to the breakfast table. Some of the dishes seemed outlandish, like the ones with delicate fish that was from the Westerlands, as well as the lemon pies and biscuits.

“Are we celebrating something?” Daeron asked, not wanting to sound wary, though he knew Lord Oris didn’t quite like him these days.

Lord Oris smiled. “You could say that, my prince.”

Daeron smiled too, answering the lord’s friendly overture, the first one he had gotten in weeks. The smile slipped when the doors to the little hall were opened to let in Jaime Lannister, with Celia at his arm. They seemed blissfully happy and Daeron felt anger bubble inside of him. _What was happening?_

Lord Oris stood up and went to greet his daughter, kissing both her cheeks, and shaking Lannister’s hand. Daeron was loosing his patience, but he also felt lost. There was something in the undercurrent that he was not getting.

“Lord Jaime came late yesterday.” His host explained, as Jaime pulled back Celia’s chair for her to seat. It was a different chair today, the second to the right. The one which would usually belong to a man’s wife in her father’s home…

“Lord Oris?” Daeron said, knowing his voice had dropped in volume and friendliness.

“My prince?” the man had the gall to throw an innocent look his way.

“Did you permit Lord Lannister and your daughter to elope?”

Celia’s cheeks became crimson, while Jaime Lannister sat ramrod straight, piercing him with hateful sea green eyes.

“I let my daughter do as she wanted, with the man she loves, your highness.” The Storm lord answered.

Daeron should have known better, he should have been the bigger person and given up on Celia _Lannister_ right on the spot. Instead he stood up from his seat and in the blink of an eye, he saw his white glove in front of Jaime Lannister, right on his empty plate.

“I demand satisfaction, Lord Lannister.” He growled.

Celia gripped her husband’s arm and Daeron heard her plead with him to say no.

Jaime simply nodded.

“Put the terms, your Highness.”

••• ••• •••

Celia was worried.

Jaime and Daeron had left Storm’s End early in the morning and she had not been able to sleep a wink after.

“You have to calm yourself down, Celia.” Her father said by the…she’d lost the count.

“I wish Prince Daeron never came here, father.” She said, loosing her cool for once. “This shouldn’t be happening, I should be with Jaime, on our way to Casterly Rock.”

Her father smiled. “I know, my light, but things don’t always happen the way we want them to.”

“What if Jaime dies, father?”

Her father closed his eyes and sighed. “You’ll have to marry the prince. I sent the confirmation of your marriage to the Citadel, saw Septon Halcion do it, but this is too soon, it won’t get there before the duel is decided.”

“We can wait then!” Celia exclaimed.

“The news of the duel, whether good or bad, will move faster than those of your marriage, Celia.” The doors of her father’s solar were thrown open and Celia saw her maid, panting and sobbing.

And Celia knew.

••• ••• •••

She didn’t wear a maiden’s cloak to her second wedding, she was no maid, and even if she were, Celia wouldn’t give anyone that satisfaction.

That belonged to Jaime alone.

Her father had sent her and her little brother to King’s Landing for the wedding, and Steffon had to bit her lip not to object to the marriage.

Daeron’s words, her own words, the kiss they shared, if felt like cold, bitter betrayal.

Celia had liked the prince once, thought they could be friends, then he’d pulled the ball stunt and made her feelings become wariness.

Now she simply hated him. 

••• ••• •••

“Celia is wasting away and I can’t…it hurts seeing her like that.” Daeron said, not really looking at the Blackwater Bay, even though his eyes were fixed on it.

“Have you asked her what she wants, Daeron?” his closest friend and counsellor asked. “She married you because you ruined her reputation, but it seems to me she did love her Lannister husband.”

Daeron turned back to look at Martyn and sighed, his eyes were haunted and sad.

“I love her, and I don’t want to let her go, that’s what she wants, I know it.”

Martyn sighed and shook his head. “If she dies, you’ll have to let go anyway. Daeron you didn’t give her time to grieve, she lost the man she loved.” Martyn frowned at his friend’s wince. “The servants rumoured you had made her drink moon tea.”

“I did no such thing!” Daeron exclaimed, feeling immediately offended, because he had actually thought about it, but Celia and Jaime had been married, their marriage had been registered in the Citadel despite the result of the fatidic duel to which he had challenged Lord Lannister. Any child born within the year would have been recognized as a Lannister.

Thing was, Celia had done it herself, and she hadn’t stopped.

“I don’t want any child of Jaime’s to be raised by the man who killed him, nor I want to have the child of such man.” She’d told him coldly. “You’ll know I’ve forgiven you when I stop drinking it after you take your rights with me.”

It had hurt Daeron to his core, but he had asked.

“Maybe I should let her go to Storm’s End.” Daeron wondered.

“It might be the last thing she does.” Martyn said sadly.

••• ••• •••

The Light of the East was back home.

Yet she felt no light, all her days were grey, even when the sun shone.

Her father had cried, as had Steffon.

They didn’t ask questions, but they knew that she wasn’t the same woman who had left a few moons earlier. She wasn’t the same woman they had known even then.

It was difficult to get Celia to eat…to speak, to do anything other than sleep hugging the Lannister cloak that Jaime had draped on her shoulders when they had married. For her, it seemed like it happened in another lifetime.

Celia thought she might be seeing things when the dark-skinned woman sat at the edge of her bed. She looked…godly and ethereal, with her golden eyes and skin so dark it gleamed under the light.

“Do you miss him, darling?” she asked, her voice echoed soft like a caress in the almost empty room.

“Yes.” Celia rasped out.

“Do you want to be with him?” the woman asked, touching Celia’s hair so lovingly it made her cry as she nodded. “I’ll help you go to him. You get this one because someone is cheating. Fight for Jaime, Celia. He needs you.” 

Celia nodded.

“Good, close your eyes, you will open them in a new life, my dear.”


	7. The Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father rolled his eyes, dismissing her.
> 
> “You’re just jealous of our worshipers, as we do get them.” He said snidely. Stranger arched a brow at him.
> 
> “You know I’m older than you, right?” she asked. “I was here before all of you, and the Red God of those fire worshiping people of Asshai.” Father frowned. “What? There are religions with only one God, why have seven?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we will find out why there had been so many Celias and so many Jamies.

**••• ••• •••**

“I don’t think these ones will stay together.” Father said with an amused smile.

“Oh, but they are so pretty,” Stranger said. It was a pleasing couple, this Tully girl and the Lannister man at her side. She didn’t say anything about the dismissing hand Father waved at Maiden as she was about to bless their union. “I’ll bet you something they will work.” She proposed in her own sort of amusement.

“What?” Father asked, throwing a glance at Crone, who simply shrugged from under their ever-present cloak.

“A chance at getting myself back together.” Stranger jested.

The room fell silent.

It was a heavy moment, she had been jesting, in all honesty, it was a game.

Humans were always a game to them, simple mortals with their puny lives and stupid worries, specks in the great scheme of things.

“Put your conditions.” Father said, sounding already smug and confident. Stranger sighed and rolled her golden eyes as she watched Jaime Lannister cloak his new wife.

“A happy life, fulfilling, they are soulmates, it can’t be that difficult for them, can it?”

Father laughed. _Hard._

"I accept your terms, we've got a bet."

They shook hands on it, and the game was on.

••• ••• •••

She was amused, but also angry.

“Cersei was an underhanded tactic, Father. Poison is for cowards.” She smiled, knowing it made him incredibly uncomfortable.

“Don’t think I don’t know why you manipulated Mother to have them be siblings this time.” Her fellow god said. Stranger rolled her eyes.

“You can’t say it did not work.” She quipped. It had, a little too well, better avoid that in the future.

“They are dead, and not together.” Father growled. “Despite your dishonesty.”

“You cheated first when you stopped Maiden from blessing their marriage.” Stranger said, reminding him of Celia Tully.

“Jaime and Celia will be together over my dead body.” Father growled.

“That can be fixed, Father.” Stranger smirked as he narrowed his eyes. “It was my body once.”

The Crone simply watched on.

“Don’t be absurd.” Father said, dismissing her with his tone.

“You’re a coward, and this had just become personal. We’re at war.”

Father rolled his eyes, dismissing her.

“You’re just jealous of our worshipers, as we do get them.” He said snidely. Stranger arched a brow at him.

“You know I’m older than you, right?” she asked. “I was here before all of you, and the Red God of those fire worshiping people of Asshai.” Father frowned. “What? There are religions with only one God, why have seven?”

“Because I want it so.” He said, dismissing the conversation and vanishing from her sight.

Crone gave her a long look and vanished as well.

Stranger though they might as well, she had strategies to think upon.

••• ••• •••

Celia Stark had been a promising chance.

Her Jaime had the right tools, the right time, the right connections. Stranger had planned their meeting to be casual enough for them to actually fall in love. She was considerably invested this time.

And then the whole Targaryen Restoration happened.

At least this time, Maiden hadn’t been convinced not to bless their union.

It was all for naught.

“You manipulated Warrior so he would fuck up Rickard Stark!” Stranger exclaimed, feeling power crackling at her fingertips as Father gave her a smug look.

“Targaryen. And Warrior knows what he is doing.”

Stranger laughed again. “He is as much a Targaryen as Jaime Lannister was.” Then she became serious. “You just don’t want to lose. You know they belong together.”

Father rolled his eyes. “Do you even know how many soulmates Mother creates ever so often? How many of those actually get together?” he asked, apparently, he really wanted to know the answer.

Stranger sneered at him.

“Of course I know, I receive them all in the end.” Stranger had seen more than her fair share of soulmates reuniting in their afterlife. It was tragic.

It was the reason she’d accelerated the cycle of reincarnation for Celia and Jaime so many times already. She felt real remorse for their unfortunate lives and tragic circumstances. She was tired of their suffering.

Stranger smiled, however.

“After all the time you’ve put into stopping me, it will be my absolute delight, my greatest pleasure, the most enormous triumph of my existence, seeing you lose to me.” She hissed, disappearing before she would do something everyone would regret.

••• ••• •••

Stranger was seething.

This had the manipulations of The Father all over it.

She had been so close to wining this time. Celia Baratheon had every chance, every advantage, the right family name, the perfect story, a love nurtured from childhood.

And once again, it had been ruined.

Stranger had felt the shot that ended Jaime’s life as if she had received it herself. Of course, she knew the stupid weapons humans used were mere puny supplements to their capacity for war, unable to destroy a God, but it had hurt all the same. She felt like a failure, and seeing Celia become a shadow of herself despite her new husband’s efforts had been as much a punishment as letting Jaime join the dominion of the dead so prematurely.

Stranger had manipulated the Targaryen prince’s best friend herself to make him convince the man of letting Celia go.

Celia went back home with a new title on her back, leaving behind a husband she hated and the memories of a time she would have rather never gone through, and Stranger felt compassion.

It was almost a foreign emotion to her, something more fitting for Mother.

Yet, she felt compassion for this child that had been deprived of all happiness, so Stranger offered her an out.

“Do you want to be with him?” Stranger asked, touching Celia’s hair lovingly, as she’d seen mothers do for her dying children every time Stranger had to collect their souls. It made Celia cry as she nodded. “I’ll help you go to him. You get this one because someone is cheating. Fight for Jaime, Celia. He needs you.” 

Celia nodded and Stranger smiled.

“Good, close your eyes, you will open them in a new life, my dear.”

••• ••• •••

Stranger was almost amused. It would have been funny if it were not so sad.

Of course this would happen.

Jaime had been born too early, Celia had been born too late.

She would try next time.


	8. Martell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to name our babe after grandfather.” She said.
> 
> “Doran?” her husband asked, completely clueless to what she meant.
> 
> “No, silly man, Jaime.” She quipped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I know this has taken some time, but, in my defense, my mind has been mostly dry.   
> Enjoy this tiny, slightly less glummy chapter, I'm not relenting with the angst, this is a break.

_**710 After Conquest** _

_**•••** _

Jaime Lannister knew that, somewhere in the world, the other half of his soul was waiting for him. He just had to find her. This was one of the few certainties he had in his life.

He had read the journals of two previous Jaime Lannisters, one had married a Celia Stark, and the other had committed incest with his sister, a Celia Lannister. And everyone knew about the unfortunate son of Lord Seneca Lannister, another Jaime who had lost his life to one of the Targaryen princes, who had married Lady Celia Baratheon.

As such, Jaime Lannister knew that, in some place, his own Celia must have been waiting for him.

The problems started when said Celia never turned up, and as Jaime became older, his hope started wanning. Maybe his Celia was far away…maybe she was in the other side of the known world?

When Jaime started closing on his forties, the pressure became too much and he finally gave in. He married the sweet daughter of one of his late father’s vassal lords and she gave him three beautiful children. None of them was named Jaime at his own request.   
Nor any of his grandchildren. Jaime didn’t know at what point in his life, his name had become a curse for him.

He just couldn’t be happy, and not for a lack of trying. His heart had ached when his wife died all too young, after a fever swept through the Westerlands, killing people as if they were mere flies. Jaime felt that these awful things that had happened to him were a consequence of his reluctance to live life to the fullest, but his life was almost over anyway.

Jaime had just seen his seventieth name day when Celia Martell entered his life.

Once again, his heart was broken.

It did not stop him from bringing little Celia Martell into the fold. The little Martell princess was a fiery, lovely thing who stole the hearts of the Lannister family as soon as she jumped out of a carriage when she was ten years of age, all dark gleaming curls and a mischievous smile that made him fall for her.

Not in the sense he would have when he was young. No. Jaime wanted to protect Celia Martell from any harm, as if she were his child or grandchild. It was a bizarre feeling.

Little Celia soon trailed behind him, hearing his stories about life and old kings and queens. As little Celia followed Jaime, Landon, the first born of his own eldest son, trailed behind the girl like a puppy wagging his tail in happiness, ready to jump at any of Celia’s commands. In other words, Landon was smitten.

It didn’t take long for talks about marriage to begin and they actually happened without a hitch.

Landon Lannister cloaked Celia Martell as his wife the day after Celia’s twentieth name day. Jaime smiled and a lone tear slid down his face when Landon’s blue eyes had given his wife the sweetest look of love and devotion. That was the gift of the Lannister men, their devotion and love. Celia gave it back.

Somehow, Jaime was able to find his peace that way.

••• ••• •••

Celia frowned as she saw grandfather Jaime walk through the gardens under the midday sun.

Landon had told her that these days, his grandfather was moving slower and eating less, sleeping his days away. It was a shame. Celia could still remember the energetic man she’d met when she’d first arrived at Casterly Rock.

He’d taught her and Landon about westerosi history and had regaled them with the stories of the old Kings of the Rock.

That man was now becoming a shadow of himself and it broke her heart.

“Landon?” her husband turned to her with a little frown at the distraction, shew rolled her eyes.

“Yes, love?” he asked.

“I want to name our babe after grandfather.” She said.

“Doran?” her husband asked, completely clueless to what she meant.

“No, silly man, Jaime.” She quipped.

Landon grimaced. “My father wanted to name me Jaime, and grandfather refused it, and to every one of my uncles.” Celia shook her head, making her dark curls bounce.

“He won’t deny you and me.” She insisted stubbornly.

“Well, don’t come crying to me when he says no, darling.” Landon said with a little shrug and a smile, knowing she would insist until one of them gave in.

••• ••• •••

“Of course.” Lord Jaime said with a little smile.

Celia blinked, completely baffled at the fast acceptance of her proposal. She had come prepared for a fight and now she was confused at the anticlimactic response of her grandfather-in-law.

“Really? Just like that?” she asked.

Lord Jaime nodded. “Yes, just like that. Sweet girl, I can deny you nothing.” The old man said with a tender smile as he went to his bookcase and browsed with narrowed, tired eyes, reading the titles under his breath. “Aha!” he exclaimed low, reaching for a few, dusty little books.

Celia realised they were journals until they were given to her.

“Read them, and then you decide if you really want to give that name to your child, little Celia.”

••• ••• •••

Celia read the journals.

If what was written in them was true, life had been tremendously unfair to Jaime Lannister…to all of them.

A part of her feared that, if she named her child after her grandfather, a destiny as dark as those written in the journals would befall her little babe. But those Jaimes had also experienced love beyond the limits of imagination.

Whatever was at play, Celia imagined it would continue until something gave.

“I will name the babe Jaime, grandfather.” She told him after giving back the journals, he touched them with reverence.

“You understand now?” the old lord asked. Celia nodded and swallowed.

“You should have told me.” She whimpered. Ser Jaime smiled and shook his head.

“It would have been for naught, and you have made my family whole anyway, lady Celia, you are a proud Lady Lannister.”

There was a long silence while Celia held his hand.

“Will you wait for the next me?” she asked.

Lord Jaime watched her with a pensive expression. “I will, my lady. No matter how long, I've waited all this time already.”

••• ••• •••


	9. Tyrell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celia nodded and finally turned the envelope and opened it.
> 
> She knew what it was, but it didn’t hurt any less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is closely related to the previous one and the following one.

_**734 After Conquest** _

**••• ••• •••**

Jaime sighed and opened his eyes.

He’d been having a pleasant dream.

His mother had been reading to him before bed, told him she loved him and would come back to check on him in the morning. His mother used to read to him all the time, about the story of Westeros and the Kings of the Rock, and whenever she said that, she had a smile on her face that was different from any smile Jaime ever saw. Like she was happy and sad at the same time.

Jaime hated and loved that dream. His mother had died during childbirth when he was a boy. He could still remember the screams and the blood, and the worried faces of the maids and his father pale visage as he guarded the door like a man haunted by ghosts.

His dad had never recovered from losing his mom, and Jaime had ended up fostering with his uncle, who had married a Tyrell lady. Jaime had loved the beautiful landscapes of The Reach, but he hadn’t loved anything more than he loved his wife.

Celia Tyrell was one of the many, many cousins of the main family, and no one had put a stop to their relationship. Of course, there were legends about the Tyrells almost disappearing under the far away reign of one Cersei Lannister; but those things mattered little to Jaime and his wife. They just loved each other. Jaime had never been happier than the moment he’d married her, except maybe when Celia gave birth to their little twins, Jaime and Gerion.

“Lieutenant, we’re under attack.” One of his men informed him. Jaime sighed and nodded, sitting on his cot to put on his boots.

He hated the war, he wanted to be home with his family more than anything.

••• ••• •••

Celia sighed deep as she watched the sunset from her window, in the master bedroom of Casterly Rock.

Today was an especially gruelling day. Something felt wrong.

“Mum?” Celia turned away from the window to see her little Jaime, with Gerion at his back, both of them watching her with those pretty green eyes from their little worried faces.

“Yes, my loves?” she asked, giving them a smile.

“When is dad coming back?” Gerion asked, earning a glare from his twin. Celia smiled again.

“Your dad is fighting out there in Essos, because the king called for it, my love. But one day, he will come back and all of us will be together again.” Celia said, hoping time wouldn’t make a liar out of her. She wanted to be with Jaime and their children more than anything.

••• ••• •••

The telegram had come from the Hand of the King himself. Prince Duncan had come all the way to the Rock, to the doorstep of the Lannister manor to hand Celia the little envelope.

“I haven’t opened it, my lady.” He said, as they sat in Jaime’s study. The room was darker than usual, probably because a storm was coming. Celia simply held the telegram in her hands for a few more moments, making memory of every moment of her life that Jaime had made whole. For as long as she didn’t open the envelope, she would still be whole.

“How long ago did you receive it, your Grace?” she asked.

The prince sighed. “A week, but there were some news of a big battle about three weeks ago, I am sorry, Lady Lannister.”

Celia nodded and finally turned the envelope and opened it.

She knew what it was, but it didn’t hurt any less.

Fallen in combat.

No sign of his body.

A decoration for value to be given posthumously.

Celia sighed. Her heart was so broken she had no tears to give.

“Thank you, Your Grace, but please, get out of my house.” She said softly.

The prince simply left.

••• ••• •••

Jaime and Gerion held their mother’s hand as she stood in front of the empty crypt.

They didn’t understand what was happening, only that their father would never come back and now they were to take care of their lady mother.

Jaime could hardly understand why his mother wanted to come to the crypts, even if they were in the Hall of Heroes, but he wouldn’t say anything. He missed his father so much, that he would take this time to be with his mother.

••• ••• •••

Celia was approaching the end of her life.

She knew it, she felt it in the pain that woke her up most nights, but she was grateful for being able to see her children grow up. She knew Jaime and Gerion wouldn’t be happy to be left alone, but she was so tired. She just wanted to go on, to be able to rest and be with her Jaime…

••• ••• •••

Jaime stood by his brother as they watched the crypt be sealed.

They were alone now.

Well, they had the rest of the family, for sure, but they were orphans now.

“I’m leaving, Jaime.” Gerion said. Jaime turned to his little brother with a questioning look. “I can’t live her any more, this place is full of pain and ghosts.”

“Well, I can’t say I don’t understand, little brother. Where will you go?” he asked.

Gerion sighed. “I was offered a place in King’s Landing. Something in city administration, I believe. Prince Duncan offered.”

Jaime grimaced. He didn’t like the Targaryens, even if they had been Starks first, but he wouldn’t hinder his brother’s dreams.

“Just make sure you visit for Yule, if you don’t come it will break my heart.” Jaime said.

Gerion smiled. “I will come.”

••• ••• •••


	10. Targaryen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jaime will adore you, all of the family, actually.” He said with a comforting tone.
> 
> Celia nodded, but she couldn’t expel the foreboding feeling that things were about to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, note that I've updated the tags for the story, this is quite violent, even if it's not too graphic, but amongst the topics you will find cheating, violence, blood, cold blooded murder and kidnapping and endangerment of a child.

_**755 After Conquest** _

**••• ••• •••**

Celia was nervous.

As the car reached the enormous place that was once the keep of Casterly Rock, she felt decidedly uncomfortable, despite Gerion’s comforting words.

Her dark violet eyes fell on the imposing house that had been semi-transformed into a manor, but was still as imposing as the actual medieval keep had been.

Her fiancé was smiling at her.

“Jaime will adore you, all of the family, actually.” He said with a comforting tone.

Celia nodded, but she couldn’t expel the foreboding feeling that things were about to change.

••• ••• •••

“You can’t be serious.” The Stranger smiled.

“Come on, sweet little sister, they are the same soul.” She said, trying to make her plead in a convincing way.

The maiden narrowed her silvery eyes at her. “You want to ruin a perfectly made match, Stranger, I can’t do that, nor can Mother.”

The Stranger sighed and rolled her eyes. “You know she won’t deny me this, Maiden, what is the Father offering to you, honestly?”

“He offers nothing, I just blessed Celia Targaryen, is not my fault she and Gerion fell in love.”

It was a lost battle in the Stranger’s eyes. She did not wish to act against the other Lannister boy, but he was in the way.

“Well, I’ll see what to do.”

“Do not mess these for them, it is beautiful.” The Maiden warned.

Stranger sighed. “There is no true beauty in a lie.”

••• ••• •••

Jaime had fallen in love the moment he saw her.

Princess Celia Targaryen possessed more valyrian traits than almost everyone in her family. Her hair was almost platinum blonde, and her eyes were of a dark violet colour, probably because her father, the Prince Duncan had married a girl from Sothoryos who had the old Targaryen look, with almost white hair and purple eyes. That was a look not seen since the time of the Seven Kingdoms, before the North separated from Westeros.

But it was not only the beauty he saw.

Celia Targaryen was a sweet woman, kind and thoughtful.

And she was set to become his good sister.

Life had a way to be unfair.

Such thoughts had him awake in the middle of the night, swirling a bourbon that he wasn’t actually drinking.

Jaime had no idea of how he would go through the rest of the holidays knowing that his little brother was going to marry the woman he loved. It seemed so unfair, that only for not being at King’s Landing at the appropriate time, Jaime had gotten the short end of the stick.

“Stop brooding, please.” A woman’s voice reached his ears and almost made him jump.

“The fuck…” he cursed under his breath, sighing at the spilled liquor.

“Not very refined, but all of us have downgraded since the age of the Lords of the Rock.” The woman said. Jaime looked at her. She was beautiful, all dark skin, bald shiny head and the most unnatural golden eyes he’d ever seen.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Jaime asked.

She rolled her eyes and out of nowhere a cigarette appeared in her fingers, lit already. Jaime blinked and shook his head, putting his glass down.

“You’re not drunk, I am not from this world, indeed.” She sat comfortably, taking in the space. “This place sure has changed.”

“Do I know you?” Jaime asked, feeling calmer now, as he went to sit in front of the woman.

“We’ve known each other for a while, Jaime Lannister, son of Tywin and Joanna.” She said eerily.

“My father’s name was Jaime, and my mother’s name was Celia.” He corrected, even though he knew of the Kingslayer. It was an old tale.

“It’s not an old tale, Jaime Lannister did kill his king, and the world was made better for it.” The woman said, as she puffed out a cloud of smoke. Was she reading his mind? “I am, but you’re not nearly as fun if you don’t know why I’m here.”

“So, why?” Jaime asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone. The woman frowned and he knew he might have fucked up.

“I was coming to do you a favour, but you are not nearly as grateful as…other you, I suppose.” She smiled then; a predatory sort of smile that made him feel like he should run. “Just one word of advice, take Celia, take her and run. She belongs to you, and please, make sure to write a journal with details, will you?”

Jaime woke with a start, only to see Celia over him with a worried expression.

“Are you all right, Jaime?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I had a really bad night.”

Celia sat beside him as he too, sat on the couch where he had been sleeping, fitfully, if his clothes were any indication of the night he’d had.

“Gerion mentioned that you have nightmares sometimes.” Celia said softly.

Jaime shrugged. “They have been getting a bit bad, I have to admit, but is something I’ve never been able to avoid.”

“I have nightmares too. My old nanny was from the North, and she used to say that it’s the Stark blood.” Celia said. “That it carries magic within.”

“And you believed her?” Jaime asked with a smile.

“Well, they are my ancestors. And yours as well, didn’t Arthur Lannister marry Alysanne Stark?” Jaime nodded. “And a Celia Stark married a Jaime Lannister too.”

Jaime frowned. “There have been quite a few Celias in our family tree, now that you think about it.” He said.

Celia frowned softly. “You’re right.”

They laughed a bit about it.

••• ••• •••

Celia felt guilty.

In the three weeks she’d been at the Lannister residence, most of her time had been spent either with Jaime or touring the enormous state.

Gerion hardly paid attention to her and Jaime was so…Celia didn’t know how to explain, but something in him completed something in her that no one in her

life could seem to fill.

She… Celia heard something.

It was moaning.

Slowing down her steps, she walked over the carpeted floor of the hallway, coming closer to the noise until it was echoing in the long, vaulted hallway.

“My lord…” Celia frowned at the open door. Jaime was in his study; she knew because he’d said something about books and how it always took most of his days to work on them, so the only choice…

“You are so noisy, Melara.”

Celia covered a horrified gasp at those words.

Gerion was fucking one of her maids.

Celia blinked the tears away and ran, uncaring if they could hear her or not. She’d run until she reached the study and opened the door with a loud thud.

“Celia?” Jaime asked. “Gods, Celia, what happened?”

She hadn’t noticed how Jaime had come close to her and was watching her helplessly as she sobbed.

“I can’t stay.” She looked at him. “I can’t stay.”

••• ••• •••

Celia smiled as Jaime helped her up from the sand.

She could hardly believe that only a year ago, she was engaged to his twin brother, and now they were both ensconced in a remote little house in the Summer Isles.

There was not time in her life in which she’d been so happy. Her nights and her days were complete and made better by Jamie’s presence in her life.

“How are you feeling?” Jaime asked as they walked, letting the waves lick their feet; the warm water was soothing to the both of them, southern people that they were.

“The baby hasn’t moved much today.” She answered. “She’s calm.”

Jaime chuckled. “He does not get that from me, I assure you.”

Celia rolled her eyes, it was their battle of wills at the moment; they couldn’t agree about having a boy or a girl. In truth, Celia cared little for that as long as their babe was healthy.

However, Jaime was proved right a few months later, when Lionel Lannister had entered the world screaming and crying to the top of his little lungs.

Celia was happy, so very happy.

••• ••• •••

Gerion sighed.

Everything had been way too easy. Finding them, traveling across the sea to encounter them, taking their lives.

He’d despised Jamie for taking Celia away, and he’d abhorred them both for their happiness and how they flaunted his humiliation.

However, he had enjoyed the screaming when he’d put the hole in his brother’s forehead, Celia had tried to take the gun from him, but Gerion was stronger, it was child’s play, overpowering his once beloved fiancée. The strength behind the shot had been such that Celia had hit the floor with a resounding crack.

Gerion hated her when she tried to reach for Jaime, but a smile came to his face when she died trying to do so.

A shame really.

The silence in their little home was overwhelming as he cleaned his face from their combined blood.

The he heard it.

A tiny cry.

Gerion’s eyes widened as he followed the sound, his feet guiding him almost blind in the darkness. He stopped in front of a white door with the name Lionel painted in Celia’s beautiful writing; the crying was a bit louder as Gerion opened the door.

The nursery was beautiful, painted in a soft, light green colour, decorated with taste and care, and a little baby was crying inside the crib.

Lionel Lannister’s hair was so blond it almost matched spun gold, and his eyes were of a sea green colour so brilliant they took away Gerion’s breath.

He stood there for a long while, as the babe watched him, as if waiting for him to pick him up, and then he remembered. Gerion had Jamie’s face.

He took the baby in his arms, and the little tyke snuggled against him, not caring about the fresh blood on his clothes.

Yet, Gerion felt nothing.

And he never looked back.

••• ••• •••

The Stranger sighed. 

They had been so close...

At least this time they were gone together, however, it wasn't enough to fulfil the term of the bet.

There was always their next life... 


	11. Whent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron was tired of seeing Celia suffer, but she refused to leave them, whatever kept his adoring wife hanging on, he was respecting it until the day she gave up; but the day Celia gave up didn’t seem to have any hurry to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end of the line. I had other plans for Halloween, but life gets in the way. Please, enjoy this one.

**_780 After Conquest_ **

**••• ••• •••**

Aaron Moore worked for her father and he was the most handsome man she’d ever meet. He was originally from the Vale, but had come to the city of Harrenhal looking for a job after his father had come from the war so badly scarred that he couldn’t do much more than stay in a room in their home, secluded from everyone.

Celia cared little if her father liked Aaron or not, the man was hardworking and intelligent, and she married him the day she became of age. She could hardly remember being as happy, as she was the day she became Celia Moore.

Her sister Talia had mentioned once that she’d fully expected Celia to marry a Jaime. It was a running joke that there were so many women named Celia through history that had married one or other Jaime Lannister. Celia herself cared little for that. Aaron was a good man who almost worshipped the ground she walked on. He cried when she told him they were having their first child.

Minisa Moore was born perfectly healthy, with the prettiest auburn hair and the prettiest hazel eyes Celia had ever seen.

“She looks exactly like you,” she’d told her husband, who cried when he held his little girl in his arms. After Minisa, came three other children, Aaron, Sheridan, and Cassandra. All of them with a precious head of red hair.

Celia was happy, even if, in the back of her mind, something warned her that things were wrong, that something was missing.

••• ••• •••

Jaime Lannister sighed as he closed another book. The words were getting confusing in his head after so many hours reading, trying to get through the history lesson he had to complete before his quarterly evaluation.

“You should rest.”

Jaime smiled at his girlfriend as she sat at his side. Celia Flowers was possibly his favourite person. Jaime adored her open personality and her interest in all things that were fair and just causes. His little brother despised Celia, which was another reason he adored her, though Jaime wasn’t sure yet if he loved her.

Maybe he was being superstitious, but the past had taught him something, he had to be careful, the men of his family who bore his name before him had all died so tragically. More than one had been married to a woman named Celia.

Like his girlfriend.

Celia was full of life and purpose and maybe that should be enough for him, but Jaime simply didn’t believe that was his lot in life.

“You are right, I should rest.” He answered Celia as he threw his head back and stretched his arms. She kissed him on the cheek.

“If you don’t feel like resting, we can do some horizontal dancing, lover.” She suggested with a saucy little wink.

Minx.

••• ••• •••

Tywin called.

Jaime was a bit disconcerted at the change. His little brother never called, unless it was something urgent or something bad. So, it was either one or the other. With lazy movements, Jaime picked up the phone as he watched Celia prepare breakfast wearing only one of his undershirts as she danced in the kitchen, giving him sweet little glimpses of the skin of her delectable arse.

“Little brother, what’s new with you?” he asked nonchalantly.

“I found her.” Tywin said, excitement dripping from his tone.

Jaime frowned. “Found who?”

His young brother huffed. “I found the lady Celia, well, she is no longer a lady, because she married out of the title, but I found her.”

Jaime sighed as he understood. Tywin was obsessed with the accounts and diaries of their ancestors, but mostly, the ancestors that Jaime had been named after, the Jamies of the past.

“Okay, and?”

“Well, she is older than you now, older than father too, and she is dying Jaime.” Tywin said with a sombre tone.

“You know I’m no interested in any of this, Tywin.” He said flatly.

“Even if she could answer your questions about _the thing that is missing_?” his brother asked. Jaime almost groaned. Sometimes, he deeply regretted that conversation he’d had with his brother about feeling that he had to pursue a life full of emotion because Jaime always felt his life was lacking something. “You just have to meet her, is not as if you have to marry the woman, Jaime.” Tywin finally growled.

He sighed. “Okay, tell me.”

••• ••• •••

Aaron was tired of seeing Celia suffer, but she refused to leave them, whatever kept his adoring wife hanging on, he was respecting it until the day she gave up; but the day Celia gave up didn’t seem to have any hurry to come.

She was connected to at least three different monitors and a morphine drip to keep the pain at bay. Her once bright red hair had become white in the short span of a year. Aaron had kept Minisa away until Celia’s chemotherapy and radiation treatment were over and done with. But now, his oldest was at their side all the time.

“Dad?”

Aaron turned to see Minisa, who was at the door of the room, her expression grave and serious. He walked up to her, making sure not to wake Celia as he left her room.

“What is it, Minni?” he asked.

Minisa sighed. “There is a young man at the door, he says his name is Jaime Lannister and that he wants to see mom.”

Aaron frowned at his memory reacted to the joke told long ago, when he and Celia had just gotten married. _I always thought you would marry a Jaime._ Those had been Talia’s words after they married; of course, Talia had embraced him as good brother, but Aaron felt like he had to let the man in.

“Tell Sheridan to let the man in, I will talk to him first.” Aaron said.

He waited in Celia’s little office. She had loved her job as a teacher and she had literally worked until she had been told she couldn’t do it anymore. His youngest son let Jaime Lannister into the room. Jaime was the representation of a Lannister, inherent arrogance in his stance and the appearance of a golden god. His blond hair was styled in a way that made it seem naturally silky, and his green eyes were open and clear.

“What brings you here, Mr. Lannister?” Aaron asked, as he stretched his hand. Jaime gave a firm handshake.

“I am sorry to intrude, Mr. Moore, I didn’t know how dire your situation and your wife’s illness was.” He apologized sincerely. Aaron nodded. “My little brother has an obsession with the past of the Lannisters and he thinks your wife is…” Jaime blushed. “my soulmate.”

Aaron laughed, it was a chuckle at first, and later a full, belly laugh. Jaime joined, but it wasn’t all sincere.

“What makes your brother think that, Mr. Lannister?” he asked.

Jaime sighed and he handed Aaron a little notebook. “Tywin says those are the highlights.”

Aaron opened the notebook and started reading. It was a careful compilation of the Jamies and Celias that had lived through history, most of them were from major houses of Westeros, as many common folk were hardly ever mentioned in books, unless they were someone like Jenny of Oldstones. There was a Celia Tully, then a Celia Arryn, then Hightower, Baratheon, Lannister - _that one was specially frightening_ -, Stark, Martell, Tyrell and Targaryen, then there was a little note and a paper clipping of the announcement of Celia’s wedding to him. The reasoning behind it was a mystery to young Tywin, but Aaron saw a solid investigation and wonder in it.

Aaron sighed. He knew that Celia loved him and he loved her deeply, but there was always something that cast a shadow over their marriage, it wasn’t disapproval or misguided sense of inferiority, it was just…there. Maybe this would make Celia happy for a few moments more.

“I will let you meet her, Jaime, it might not be for long, but…please, she is my wife.”

Jaime smiled. “I didn’t come to steal her away, sir.”

It might have been an empty assurance, but Aaron appreciated it.

••• ••• •••

Celia Moore was awake when Jaime entered the room. She wasn’t that old, despite the refined old man that was her husband appeared to be. She could have been Jaime’s mother.

But she looked frail and little in her enormous bed, connected to pipes and monitors.

“She refused to stay at the hospital for her last days.” Aaron Moore explained as he led him to the chair beside the bed.

Celia’s blue eyes turned to him, and despite the fog of the medications and the illness, she smiled at him brightly and reached for his hand. Jaime felt her cold, frail hand on his own and his heart skipped a beat.

A sense of calm invaded him and he squeezed softly. “Thank you.” Celia whispered.

Jaime shook his head. “My pleasure, ma’am.” He answered.

Those were the only words they ever exchanged. Celia died later that day, while Jaime still held her hand. She simply slipped away quietly into oblivion. He was suddenly numb. Because, and damn Tywin for it, Jaime had never felt as complete as he did in those few hours he spent with the old, sick lady his brother had found.

Her funeral had been an ordeal, hundreds o people were present, and Jaime stayed until everyone left, only to speak to her grave. He did neve understand why he’d cried so hard, knowing that she was there…gone forever.

Jaime sent Tywin a letter and he simply left.

He knew Celia Flowers would move on, but he didn’t actually care. It was too painful to think that his _real_ Celia had been somewhere and he had only a few hours with her, before losing her forever. He had the rest of his life ahead of him, and it was already over.

••• ••• •••

Tywin received the urn with his brother’s ashes but said nothing as he deposited the little urn to the crypt, deep into the heart of the Rock.it had been twenty years since the last time he had seen Jaime. A part of him expected this to happen much sooner. 

Joanna held his hand the whole time as Tywin went through the motions.

“We can name one of the twins after him, my love.”

Tywin nodded, but he said nothing. 


End file.
